Menagerie
by Alabaster86
Summary: Drabbles involving various characters in various situations. Updated with a humorous piece involving a fanatical Jee and a free verse poem with Ozai/Ursa as the subject.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Random drabbles I've written for random prompt weeks over the last few months. They involve lots of different characters.**

**Daughter of the North**

Yue rarely had a moment to herself these days. With her sixteenth birthday approaching along with her wedding to Hahn, her life was an almost endless series of dress fittings, instruction on the actual wedding ceremony and dinners with Hahn and his parents.

If she told herself the truth, even as a child, her time was structured and divided into sections, none of which she had any say in. Free time to just play was rare and a small part of her resented her position as princess of the Northern Water Tribe. But she was a dutiful girl who loved her father and her nation fiercely; so she did what was expected of her without complaint. Still sometimes she wondered what it would be like to let loose and have fun. Wondering didn't hurt anyone. It was all she had.

As she rode along in the gondola and watched the city drift by, the sound of playing children reached her ears. Yue was always amazed by the unfettered joy expressed by the tribe's youngest members. Their carefree shouts and laughter echoed throughout the gorgeous city of ice bringing a wistful smile to her lips.

She looked around with her beautiful blue eyes and spotted a group of boys running along the canal, tossing a ball made of seal hide back and forth. Yue looked on eagerly. The boys felt her gaze and stopped their play. They were in awe of the stunning girl with the white hair, their princess, future leader of the entire tribe.

They whispered amongst themselves and stole admiring glances at her as the gondola continued to glide gracefully through the blue looking water. One boy began running again, keeping up with Yue. He waved at her cheekily and held up the ball. Was he asking what she thought he was asking?

She peered closely at him. He was about ten, a strong looking child with his own set of lovely blue eyes and bits of brown hair peeking out from his hood. He quirked an eyebrow at her and threw the ball. It sailed across the few feet of water and landed right in her lap, on top of her luxurious pale blue coat. Yue giggled and brushed away the dampness. She lifted the ball, heavier than it looked, and threw, trying to judge distance and speed at the same time. The boy had to stretch to catch the orb but he did and began to giggle too. He mouthed 'again' and she responded with her own silent 'yes'. Yue was breathless with childlike joy by the time the gondola reached its destination. She took a quick glance at Hahn's house and a slight frown marred her features. The little boy stood perfectly still on the edge of the walkway. He knew their fun was over and waved goodbye before disappearing down another path of ice.

* * *

**Lessons Best Ignored**

He was the older brother. It should have been him teaching Azula simple things like how to hold her chopsticks properly or how to hide food that she didn't want to eat or how to avoid their father when he was in one of his moods. Almost preternaturally competent in everything, though, she didn't need his help.

It was Azula, two years younger, who taught Zuko. Schooling her brother was never the girl's intention but it happened nonetheless. He learned to keep all things soft and warm to himself for they were things to be mocked. He learned the sting of jealously and the pain of inferiority. He learned that perfection is rewarded while mere effort is not. And he learned that children, despite what adults say about them, are not innocent.

"See, Zuko, you do it like this," Azula said in that special 'talk down to' voice she reserved especially for him.

The six year old held a flame in the palm of her tiny hand. It hovered there, not quite touching the soft skin, looking as though it wanted to take flight. And it did. With a whirling motion of her wrist and hand, the young princess sent the little burst of orange hurtling through the air, changing it into a long sinuous strand of fire that seemed alive.

It was effortless for her, everything was. Eight year old Zuko felt the familiar surge of bitterness and pushed it aside. His hand shook as he concentrated and produced a feeble flame of his own. Azula snickered as she watched her brother struggle. His gold eyes were drawn tight with effort and his entire body was rigid. Try as he might, Zuko couldn't make the flame fly like Azula could.

"Why don't you just give up," she said, sounding every bit like a woman of thirty rather than a young child. "You'll never be any good."

"Shut up," Zuko hissed as he wiped angrily at the beginnings of tears in his eyes. "I will be."

"Father says you're incompetent."

Azula said the word slowly, stretching out the syllables, feeling them on her tongue. She wore a sly smirk on her pretty face and watched her brother closely. Neither child was quite sure what the word meant, but both knew it wasn't positive.

Before he heard it from his father's own lips, Azula taught Zuko that the man who had sired him, his mother's husband, had no faith in his firstborn. Azula taught him what pain felt liked. Maybe she was lying. He clung to that hope for years.

* * *

**Understanding**

Smellerbee chose war paint and knives while Longshot chose arrows and silence. Somehow the pair became inseparable. They were part of the Freedom Fighters, the hodgepodge group of children that Jet had pulled together over the years, but also their own private little family of two. They ate together, trained together, slept together.

After being around him only a few months, Smellerbee knew exactly what Longshot was thinking at any given time. Sacrificing speech seemed to give the tall young man's face and body a sort of sublime power. Every movement, every tic meant something. Jet understood him well enough, but Smellerbee 'got' him.

"What are you remembering?" she asked him one day as they walked through the woods near the tree house hideout.

Smellerbee took out the knife that was tucked into her belt and threw it at a tree far down the pathway. It was an accurate throw, of course, and she smirked. Longshot, not to be outdone, drew an arrow and let it fly. It landed directly above her blade.

He stopped abruptly and looked at her and Smellerbee knew instantly.

"It happened around this time of year, didn't it?"

Longshot bowed his head, and his hat hid his supple features.

"I'm sorry, Longshot. Do you want to be alone?"

He reached for her hand and held on to just the fingertips. The knife thrower didn't move, letting Longshot take the lead. He pulled her along gently and she followed, aware that he was taking her somewhere important. After a bit, he veered off the path and into the forest itself. A huge red leaved tree, with branches spreading outward seemingly forever, stood at the center of a small clearing.

Characters were carved into the expansive trunk. Smellerbee peered closely at them, but only recognized a few. The archer traced over each and every character almost reverently and Smellerbee realized what they represented.

"You come here to remember," she stated simply.

Tears came unbidden and she wiped roughly at her eyes, smearing the stripes of paint that adorned her face. Longshot grabbed her hand again, this time pulling her small body into his chest. When he finally let go, red paint coloured the blue of his tunic.

"Time to go home," Smellerbee rasped.

Longshot led the way.

* * *

**Can You Love This?**

Before they were married, but after Ursa and Ozai were promised to each other, they experienced a time of adjustment. Ozai was eager to please his father, Firelord Azulon, and so did his best to find happiness with Ursa. She was a lovely young woman, with long brown hair and soft golden eyes and a face that bespoke of kindness and gentleness.

She wasn't a firebender like he was and had no fighting skills at all. Her mind was sharp, however, and she protected those close to her with an awesome fierceness.

"You realize that I'll probably never be Firelord," he said to her one day as they had lunch together at the palace.

"So?" she asked. "That doesn't matter to me."

"But it does matter to me."

"You can live the life of the Crown Prince and not have the worries of the Firelord. You'll have lots of time for family."

She failed to notice the darkness that passed briefly over Ozai's handsome face.

"Yes, family…" he muttered. "I suppose you would like lots of children?"

"Not lots, but yes, I would like children, wouldn't you?"

"It's important to have heirs," he stated bluntly.

"But children are more than just heirs, they're….children."

"Now you're starting to sound like my brother."

"Is that a bad thing?" Ursa asked.

"He goes too easy on Lu Ten," Ozai said by way of an answer.

Ursa sighed. She reached across the table and placed her small, delicate looking hand over Ozai's. He stiffened slightly at the gentle touch and moved his hand away after a moment.

She wondered to herself, "Can you love this man?"

* * *

**The Joy of Tea**

Of all the relationships in his life, the one Iroh had with tea was the most satisfying. He loved rolling the leaves between his fingers, little traces of their scent left on his skin. He would bring his fingers to his nose and inhale deeply. The varieties and combinations were almost endless. He would never grow tired of tea. Jasmine remained a favorite; he had named his teashop 'The Jasmine Dragon' after all. But the tang of ginseng always revitalized him and the soothing flavor of peppermint always calmed his nerves.

He considered brewing tea an art of sorts. Though he could and had worked with any kind of pot, he preferred porcelain. His collection was vast; one cup sized to almost cauldron sized and everything in between. The designs and colors of the pots provided a feast for the eye as they lined his counter and sat atop various tables.

Making tea was something that should never be rushed was his philosophy. Leaves were measured carefully and the water must be just the right temperature. Steeping took time; all of the flavor must be brought out of the leaves.

When Iroh finished making a pot, or when he came up with a flavor combination of his own, he felt content. The next step was sharing that feeling with others, whether his customers or people close to him. The smiles on their faces as they smelled the brew or took a first taste were priceless. Yes, tea never let him down.

* * *

**Grief**

When his sweet young wife died giving birth to his only child, grief eroded Iroh slowly, like eons of wind and rain eroded even the hardest of stone. He had his son to think about and occupy his time. There was a flurry of wet nurses and nannies and late night cuddling sessions in the creaky old rocking chair that Iroh insisted on keeping. It had belonged to his wife's family and she herself was rocked to sleep in the very same chair. Maybe the child could sense his mother's spirit somehow in the worn willow wood, red paint dull and faded and Fire Nation symbols barely visible now.

When Lu Ten, for that was the name his wife chose for the child before his birth, became one of the Fire Nation's many sacrifices to pointless war, grief didn't erode. It devoured Iroh in one big gulp and only spat him back out after years. Even then, it kept a part of him and wouldn't relinquish it no matter how pitiful the man's pleas.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: These drabbles aren't quite so random. I wrote them all for the prompt 'memory'.**

**World of Two**

Sometimes, Aang wished that Appa could talk. It wasn't that the Avatar was lonely; he had friends, amazing friends, some of whom talked_ too_ much, and he had Katara, the sparkling centre of his universe.

But none of them were there. None of them had memories of the air temple where he had lived and learned until the age of twelve. None of them could recall the pure and simple joy of his first time in the air. None of them could recall the pain he felt that black and stormy day he left and altered his destiny forever. But Appa could.

"Hey, buddy," Aang cried with delight when he approached the massive air bison. "I've got a treat for you."

Appa snorted gently in reply and inhaled the apple that his companion held out in the palm of his hand.

"Good, huh?" Aang asked and bit into his own crunchy red fruit.

The great beast blew air softly out of his nostrils. It tickled Aang and the boy giggled like a small child, innocently and unselfconsciously. He rubbed the bison's nose, and stretched up as far as he could to scratch the wide expanse of white fur.

"You understand me, don't you, buddy?" the Avatar asked.

Appa bellowed, a loud, booming sound that echoed throughout the spacious shelter that Fire Lord Zuko had requisitioned especially for him. Though Aang was dressed in traditional monk's robes, yellow and flowing, Appa still saw the little boy with the yellow pants and orange leggings, air glider in his hand and wide grey eyes filled with the joy of living.

Sometimes, Appa wished that Aang could talk.

* * *

**Love Rekindled**

It was the necklace that did it. When Pakku saw it there on the ice, dark blue ribbon stretched out and the stone he had carved sixty years before looking exactly as it had then, he remembered Kanna. The recollection was sharp and painful. He saw the anger and defiance in those beautiful eyes of hers, and he saw the pain. But he also saw the giggling young girl, full of energy and mischief, walking with her friends along the intricate series of canals, flirting with boys they shouldn't have been flirting with.

Kanna was supposed to be his. She would have been, but fled both him and the Northern Water Tribe, desperate to find a home, a family of people that wouldn't force her into a box. He could not understand her decision and he was angry for years, never giving his love to another. Some called him embittered, some called him an old grouch, some called him worse. Not once during those sixty years did Pakku entertain the thought that maybe Kanna had a point.

Tradition was all. Tradition should not be broken, ever. It was Kanna's granddaughter, Katara, that marvelously gifted waterbender, who did it. She changed his mind or opened it up to new possibilities.

Yes, it was her and the necklace and the memories it dredged up from deep, deep down. That strip of blue made Pakku realize that tradition might not be everything after all. It made him realize how very much he still missed Kanna.

* * *

**Sometimes, memories are all we have**

Jet watched as the light glided along on its metal track. He knew what the Dai Li wanted to do. They wanted to brainwash him. They wanted to turn him into another puppet that never questioned anything and believed that the war was nothing but an elaborate story dreamed up by some madman.

He resisted, but it was so very hard. Jet felt little pieces of his memory slipping away. He reached out as if to snatch them back but the bindings on his wrists only tightened.

The light was very orange and very bright. He tried to close his eyes but his lids didn't want to move. He shouted about firebenders but they only clamped his mouth shut with more of those rocks. Jet was powerless and terrified.

What if they took away _all _his memories? What if he didn't know who he was any longer? What if he couldn't recall his mother's face or his father's voice? What if he forgot that day, the day the firebenders torched his village, killing everyone but him? What would be the point? What would he have to live for?

Some people might ask why he would _want_ to remember such a terrible thing. Jet wanted to remember because those memories were his. They were his only link to a happier time and they were what drove his thirst for revenge. Without them, he might as well be dead.

* * *

**The Earth Remembers Everything**

When she was old and tired and thought back on her life, Toph discovered that all her memories were somehow filtered through the earth. Her first meeting with those who would become her lifelong friends she always recalled as a long, shuddering tremor that moved from beneath her feet and upward through her perpetually small frame. She still felt those tremors anytime one of those special people was near.

Iroh's death was the sensation of driving rain pounding relentlessly into the soil. Its memory came back whenever she stood outside in a downpour and enjoyed the squishy feeling of mud between her calloused toes.

Babies, something _she_ never had, but her friends had in abundance, were leaves skittering across the ground, moving wherever the wind took them.

Teaching, and the recollection of certain exceptional students, was the feel of earth in her hands, malleable and pliant, yet never letting go of its own individual essence.

The memory of lovers, many and colorful, was the bouncing of little chunks of dirt along the earth's vast and varied surface. They came and they went just as quickly, but the earthbender enjoyed every lover equally, whether fickle or steadfast.

When Aang died, such a peaceful death it was, Toph felt rumbling and shaking beneath the earth's surface. It was as though the world itself was grief stricken at the loss of the still happy-go-lucky Avatar. Whenever she visited the Fire Nation and its myriad of volcanoes, lava boiling and heaving, ready to spurt upwards like her own hot and painful tears often did, Toph thought of her grief, the grief of the people she loved and the grief of the earth itself.

* * *

**Memory is Fragile**

Hakoda had many memories of his wife, Kya, dead at the hands of Fire Nation raiders years ago. All of them were good, even those memories of angrily exchanged words or nights spent sleeping with their backs turned to each other, not touching. Every remembered word or look was a tiny piece of the huge, jumbled puzzle that made up Kya's image in his mind.

Sometimes when he was talking with Bato, or one of the other Southern Water Tribe men, about the old days, a memory would slip from Hakoda's grasp. A real sense of panic would flood him, more fear than when he confronted the enemy.

"_What_ did Kya say when we wrestled with that tigerseal?" he would ask shrilly.

"Oh, don't you remember; she said, 'Shouldn't you two little boys be out fishing? Or should I send Sokka out?' Then she giggled like a little kid herself."

"That's right!" Hakoda exclaimed. "I remember now."

He let out his breath and put the puzzle piece back into place.

Sometimes, a memory changed and softened. A particularly difficult day in their relationship became just a minor tiff. Hakoda figured that was the affect of time. Things always looked different through the distance of years. The raw panic he felt when Kya struggled with the birth of their son, when blood soaked through layer after layer of skins, was now nothing but faint unease.

One memory never changed, however. How he wished that it would.

* * *

**Brothers**

"Why do you persist in coming here?" Ozai asked from the corner of his cell.

The stone there was worn, smoothed from the constant pressure of Ozai's frame dressed in its prison rags. There was a worry trail along the centre of the cell as well. The former Fire Lord did a lot of pacing.

"I don't make any special trips, you know, brother. I'm here to see Zuko and Mai. Sometimes curiosity gets the better of me_._

"Curiosity about what?" Ozai snarled as he snapped his head up, sending his long lank hair flying.

"About what made you _you_, I suppose," Iroh answered. "About the choices you made and whether you feel any regret."

The owner of Ba Sing Se's most successful tea shop looked thoughtfully at his fallen sibling. He stroked his long beard and settled down more comfortably onto his little wooden stool. Iroh borrowed it from the guard outside every time he visited. He tended to stay for quite a while.

"That's the stupidest thing I ever heard," Ozai retorted.

His face twisted into a hideous scowl while Iroh maintained his calm expression.

"Why?" the tea maker asked.

"I've done nothing to regret except get defeated. I stand by all my choices. No, I take that back. I should have been harsher and crueler. We come from the same parents, brother. Don't think that there isn't a little bit of me in you."

"Oh, I _know _that there is," Iroh agreed. "But I chose a different path many years ago. I opened my mind, Ozai. Yours has been closed since you were a small boy."

"And what do you know of when I was a boy?" Ozai yelled. He stood up quickly and moved to the bars of his cage, pressing his face against the cold steel. "You were never there."

"That's not quite true," Iroh replied. His voice was soft and soothing and his one hand moved outward as if he wanted to touch his brother. "I have memories of when you were born. It was strange to have a little brother when I was already an adult but I liked the idea too. And you were so cute."

Ozai sneered.

"Yes, it's true. You were a cute baby and a handsome little boy. When I came home you followed me around like a lost badgerdog."

"Nonsense," Ozai replied and scowled again. "Why would I follow you around?"

"Because you were lonely; our father wasn't exactly one for giving affection."

"Loneliness is for weak people. I am not weak. I was never weak. That distinction goes to my son."

"You're wrong, Ozai; everyone feels loneliness and Zuko is far from weak. In fact, he is one of the strongest people I know or have ever known."

"We'll never agree on anything, Iroh."

"I wouldn't say that. I have lots of time.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Only two this time...sorry...hope you enjoy them.**

**Restless**

Zuko's ship, more luxurious than the one he spent three years aboard while searching for the Avatar, glided smoothly through the frigid waters of the north. He was headed to the great city of the Northern Water Tribe; Arnook was hosting the yearly conference of all the world leaders. Zuko hadn't been north since the time he had hidden on Zhao's ship and then infiltrated the city of ice. The city held bad memories, lots of them.

Many lives were lost in the siege of the north and many of those were Fire Nation lives. Lieutenant Jee, one of Zuko's senior officers during his search for the Avatar, was among the casualties. His body was never recovered, of course, but it was somewhere in the vast deepness of the ocean, just bones now, sitting pressed up against some underwater rocks or buried beneath the shifting sands.

Zuko shuddered. As a child he'd heard stories of restless spirits; those _born _of fire who somehow missed the ceremonial burning of their physical bodies and were doomed to wander that ephemeral place between the physical world and the spirit world.

He stood on the ship's deck as the sun set. The cold air was bracing and he wrapped his cloak tighter against his lean frame.

"Aren't you cold," Mai asked as she encircled his waist with her arms.

Zuko smiled at her words, recollection of an earlier sea voyage jumping instantly to mind.

"I'm fine," he replied. "I'm just thinking about Jee and the others who died here."

"Do you believe the stories?"

"I don't know, Mai, but I sense something here. Do you feel it?"

Mai moved out from behind her husband and grabbed hold of his hand. She looked out at the calm water and then up at the sky, a rich palette of pinks and oranges. Everything seemed fine, but she couldn't shake the sensation of another presence. Maybe it was her imagination and maybe not.

"I feel something, Zuko. I wonder if we're just talking ourselves into it."

"You're probably right," the Fire Lord sighed. "We should go below deck and have our dinner. The sea air makes me hungry."

He squeezed Mai's hand and took a last look around.

"Where are you, Jee?" he whispered to the almost dark.

As he moved forward, his warm leather boots making a soft thumping sound on the metal of the deck, he missed the reply to his question.

"I'm here."

* * *

**Death would be Better**

Defeat was tiny in stature but powerful beyond anyone else in the world. Defeat was kind and forgiving and merciful. Defeat could be fierce when needed. Defeat was the Avatar and his name was Aang.

Ozai didn't bother to look up when the shadow crossed the threshold of his prison cell. Zuko had left no more than an hour before. He probably came back to spout more of his 'Irohian' philosophy. Ozai could hardly blame the boy for wanting to gloat. After all, Zuko had been on the receiving end of torment from him often enough.

But it wasn't Zuko. The step was lighter and the shadow shorter. The former Fire Lord raised his head and grinned a feral grin. He could already feel the mantle of his good breeding falling away. Ozai felt like an animal at a zoo or a circus; a terrible attraction for those who dared to view his sorry, limp and haggard looking form.

"Why are you here?" he growled like a hyenabear.

"I wanted to make sure that you were okay," Aang answered calmly.

"Why would you care? You're the victor. Enjoy your spoils. Don't sympathize with the enemy. It makes you seem weak."

"I don't believe that," Aang replied.

He still wore his yellow monk's robes, and his face looked remarkably peaceful, as if an incredibly huge weight of responsibility had vanished. It had, of course, and the evidence sat right in front of him, scowling angrily.

"You're naïve, boy. That will come back to haunt you."

"I prefer to call myself 'optimistic'. I think there is hope for you, Ozai. I think there's hope for anyone who still breathes."

Ozai spat onto the cold stone floor and glared at the boy.

"How dare you say that? What hope is there for me here? Do you think that my son will ever free me?"

"No, I don't believe he will. And I agree with Zuko. But you could become a better person."

Ozai howled then. It was a terrible sound and Aang had to fight the impulse to cover his ears.

"You should have killed me, Avatar. This defeat you handed me is far worse than death."


	4. Chapter 4

**The Madness of Fire**

Jeong-Jeong was not crazy, not really, though people who encountered him often thought so. He was rough and hard and bitter but he still clung to his sanity with a tentative grasp. Sometimes he wanted to let go and just give into the despair that lived quite happily in the back of his mind, growing day by day.

Fire was destruction and death and pain. He was a firebender, a master even, and he had caused all three. Jeong-Jeong couldn't bring those soldiers and civilians back to life. He couldn't remove their scars or return the limbs he had ruined with searing blasts of fire. The flesh and bone that he had destroyed as a Fire Nation soldier would never grow back or reappear. What he did in the name of fire was terrible and permanent.

Sometimes he dreamed about the day he first discovered that he could make fire. He had been so happy and so proud, a little boy who ran to his father, eyes alight with a sense of accomplishment. He was special.

That joy was fleeting. His skill was honed not for good but for evil; for murder and intimidation. _That _was madness, though at the time he was too weak to rebel. By the time he defected from the Fire Nation Army, his mind was fragile, his psyche damaged beyond repair. He wasn't mad, though. That title belonged to those who continued mindlessly in their drive to dominate with fire. Perhaps those who created flames were predisposed to madness. Perhaps only the strongest could resist the pull of insanity. Jeong-Jeong was nothing if not strong. The fact that he had finally done something right made him stronger.

Maybe one day, he could love fire again. Maybe…

**Tolerable Madness**

"He's insane, you know, mad," Smellerbee rasped to Longshot as they watched Jet.

Their leader was busy interrogating a Fire Nation citizen, some hapless man who lived in the colonies and was traveling with his wares through _their _forest. Longshot stiffened just a bit and Smellerbee had her answer. The tall young man, expert with a bow, knew what Jet was and didn't care. Neither did Smellerbee. Jet was their leader. He had made a home for them all those years ago. He had given them somewhere to belong. They wouldn't give that up or abandon him no matter what.

Jet removed his hooked swords from his belt and brandished them threateningly in front of the petrified man who kneeled in the leaves and soft soil of the forest floor.

"Tell me," Jet demanded in a cold, quiet and terrifying tone.

Goosebumps formed on Smellerbee's skin as she watched and listened.

"I, I don't know anything, I swear I don't know. I'm just a merchant. Please, let me go," he pleaded desperately. "I won't tell on you. Please, I have a son. He's only eight years old."

"You're not a very smart merchant, are you?" Jet observed, ignoring the man's pleas. There was a hint of mirth in his brown eyes. "You really should wear Earth Kingdom colours when you're in our country. You Fire Nation bastards are so arrogant. Now, you're going to pay."

Smellerbee and Longshot stood by impassively as Jet moved behind the man, placed one sword around his thick neck and then drew it quickly outward. The vulnerable flesh opened up neatly and hot blood sprayed Jet's face and armor. He wiped it away casually and then kicked the prone body. The thirsty earth rapidly absorbed the pool of blood that surrounded the corpse.

"Let's go," Jet ordered. "It's time for dinner."


	5. Chapter 5

**War Paint**

"Papa, can I put paint on my face too?" Sokka's six year old son, Jian, asked one day.

It wasn't just any day. It was a special day in the Southern Water Tribe, one on which the men demonstrated their strength and power, their skills and their prowess.

"Sure you can," Sokka replied. "I remember the first time I put war paint on."

"Were you like me?" Jian wondered.

"I was probably about your age. Back then the war paint was a little more serious."

""Cause there was a war, right Papa?"

"Right, now let's do your face. Come sit on my lap."

The little auburn haired boy with huge pale blue eyes crawled up onto his father's lap, so that they were almost face to face. They sat in the comfortable ice house, one of the many that now made up the Southern Water Tribe's settlement, which Katara had built for Sokka and Suki eight years earlier. It had four rooms, a kitchen/dining room, a living room and two bedrooms. Sokka and Suki shared one while Jian shared the other with his two year old sister, Xiao-xing.

Sokka dipped his right index finger into the black paint and made dramatic sweeps under and over the little boy's eyes. Grey was next; forehead, cheeks and nose were finished.

"It feels funny," Jian complained.

"We're almost finished," Sokka explained. "I need to put white paint around your eyebrows and your chin and this part of your cheeks."

He coloured the boys face in while humming an old Water Tribe song about going into battle.

"Now for a bit more black," the warrior stated.

Two slashes of the dark paint on the boys chin completed the effect.

"Can I see, can I see?" Jian asked excitedly.

"Hop off and have a look. The mirror's right behind you."

"Wow," the little boy shouted and began whooping around Sokka's bedroom.

"If you wake your sister, Mommy will be really ticked," Sokka reminded the boy.

"Oh, yeah," he whispered and crawled back onto his father's lap.

"Me a man too now, Papa? Can I do the stuff today?"

"Sorry, little buddy. It takes more than paint to make a man."

Jian's lower lip protruded and he crossed his arms in a startling imitation of an angered Suki.

"Not fair," he pouted and began to wail.

Xiao-xing twisted in her bed and then awoke, piercing the air with her own sharp cries.

Sokka placed Jian gently down and went to his daughter.

"It's okay, sweetheart. Your big brother's not too happy about something, that's all."

"Papa," she said and buried her face in Sokka's chest.

The Water Tribe Warrior, now liaison between the Water Tribes and the Fire Nation, stroked his daughter's hair and hummed until she fell back to sleep.

"Sorry," Jian said quietly when Sokka turned to look at him.

"Being a man means taking care of your family, being a good father and husband. And being a man means knowing when to say that you're sorry. So, guess what, Jian?"

"What Papa?"

"You'll make a fine man one day. I know it."

Little Jian beamed.

After a night of festivities and perhaps a bit too much liquor, Sokka tiptoed into the kids' room and checked on the boy. His face was scrubbed clean and his chubby cheeks were pink. But Sokka made out little bits of grey paint in Jian's hair. He bent down to kiss the boy's forehead.

"Goodnight, little man," he whispered.

**Performance**

Ty Lee had been a performer her entire life. From the time she was very small, she performed feats of danger and skill in her own desperate attempt to gain the attention and approval of her overworked and overwrought parents. She was one of seven daughters, the final hope for a son. Another brown haired, grey-eyed girl was not what her parents wanted and they expressed their disappointment with veiled remarks and subtle acts of cruelty.

For all her viciousness, and no matter how uncomfortable Ty Lee often felt around Princess Azula, at least the amber eyed firebending prodigy _noticed_ her. In fact, she personally selected Ty Lee along with another girl, Mai, to be her 'friends'. It was an odd choice of words. Young Ty Lee had dreamed of closeness with someone that didn't involve competition, a closeness that was warm and loving rather than disapproving. There was no warmth or love from Azula, but occasionally there was approval and Ty Lee lapped it up like a starving animal.

Acrobatics always came easily to her. She excelled at it. Her body was like a springy, stretchy, bendable instrument that did what she commanded it to do. Cart wheels and flips were her joys as an eight year old. By the time she was ten or eleven she could do triple flips in the air before landing elegantly on both feet. She could do just about anything that required a flexible body.

Once she learned the complex and very delicate art of chi blocking, _which, _combined with her acrobatics_,_ made her a formidable weapon, Azula's approval of her increased. Ty Lee felt good about that. But the princess' innate nastiness and desire to dominate and control tainted the girl's good feelings.

Ty Lee had a naturally bubbly personality and a natural desire to please, but Azula wanted too much. She wanted to use her 'friend' as a weapon. Though brought up in the same power mad culture, Ty Lee didn't crave violence or feel the need to beat down anyone. She just wanted to be happy. Was that really too much to ask?

Apparently it was; Ty Lee wasn't happy, not at home and not at the palace. She made plans to run away and daringly snuck aboard an Earth Kingdom bound ship. There she found a traveling circus, Fire Nation owned and managed, which moved between Fire Nation colony cities. It was perfect, or so she thought.

The other performers liked her well enough and she was paid to do what she loved. Every night when she worked the high wire, her balance unfailing, Ty Lee's body thrummed with excitement and the pulsing energy of the crowd infused her with even more. It was pure exhilaration.

The more performances she did and the more the other members of the circus saw of her skills, the more they resented her. Ty Lee, the circus' newest member, was billed as the star after just a few weeks. Her pride was tainted with guilt. Perhaps her top status wasn't fair to the other performers. Perhaps she should purposely make a few mistakes; the manager would be angry but everyone else would have a chance to take over her spot.

"No," Ty Lee said to herself a few days later as she sat at the vanity inside her pink tent and removed her gaudy makeup. "I won't. I won't pretend to be less than I am. I don't care if they hate me."

She gave herself a brilliant smile and proceeded with her post show rituals.

Months later, almost a year actually, Azula showed up. Ty Lee was happy to see the princess. She was a friend of sorts and the acrobat _did _care. But as was always the case with Azula, she had an ulterior motive. She wanted to create an elite team, Ty Lee, Mai and herself, all for the cause of hunting down the Avatar along with Zuko and Iroh. There was no choice involved. Azula didn't allow choices. You did what she wanted and smiled while doing it.

So she left one act for another. Ty Lee put on a brave face. It was good to see Mai again and there was a thrill to the chase, though she wasn't quite sure of all the reasons behind it. That desire to please surfaced again; the acrobat worked hard for the princess. When the Avatar was 'killed' and Zuko came back to the Fire Nation with them, Ty Lee thought that maybe everything would settle down. And it did for awhile.

Then Zuko left to join the Avatar, leaving a heartbroken Mai behind. Somehow, Ty Lee knew that soon Mai would have to make a choice. She did it at the Boiling Rock, defying Azula and saving her love. Ty Lee admired Mai's actions and had no intention of letting Azula strike her friend down. As she looked down at Azula's shocked and angry face, she wasn't afraid.

And when she became a member of the Kyoshi Warriors, she proudly put on their makeup and their uniform. They didn't expect her to perform tricks or be something she couldn't be. They simply wanted her to be. Ty Lee was alright with that.


	6. Chapter 6

**Doubt** – a sequel of sorts to 'Death would be Better'

Aang walked away from the prison tower with slumped shoulders. He had just been to see Ozai, wanting to make certain the man was alright. The former Fire Lord and would be Phoenix King had informed Aang that he would have preferred death to having his bending stolen from him. Ozai had looked more than just defeated. He had looked like a dried out husk of what he used to be.

Aang's normally light step, light as the air that he bended with such ease, was heavy now. His feet felt almost glued to the stone path and he struggled to lift them up and place one in front of the other. His big grey eyes were cloudy with a swirling storm of emotions. He needed to speak to Zuko. He needed to know that sparing Ozai's pitiful life was really the best thing to do.

"Do you think I did the right thing, Zuko, with your father I mean?" the Avatar asked the Fire Lord when he finally made it back to the palace. "He looked so down."

"He's in prison, Aang. What did you expect him to look like?"

Zuko poured Aang a cup of tea and handed it to the distraught Avatar, placing a sympathetic hand on the boy's shoulder.

"I don't know; glad to be alive, maybe," Aang finally replied and took a sip of his tea.

He looked over at Zuko gratefully and the Fire Lord gave him a wry smile.

"Look, Aang, not everyone is as cheerful and optimistic as you are. My father is definitely not."

"Yeah, I kind of noticed."

"Besides, what was your alternative? It was either remove his bending or kill him, am I right?"

"Yes," Aang replied meekly. His eyes looked sad and his expression was sorrowful. "It's just, when I did it, it seemed like the right thing. But now that I've seen him, all depressed looking and feeling like he's not whole anymore, I wonder."

"Why do you worry? The guy is a bastard. He deserves what you gave him and more. Other people deserve your sympathy, not him."

Zuko's tone was angry. He couldn't help it. When it came to Ozai, anger was pretty much all he felt now, anger and regret.

"Zuko," the Avatar said gently. "I realize you have a lot of issues with your father. And I get that you want him punished but still, I believe that everyone deserves dignity at least."

"His dignity is his own worry," Zuko hissed. "Don't feel sorry for him, Aang. He brought everything on himself. He put you in that position and he should be damn grateful to have an opportunity to finally change for the better."

"Do you think he will?" Aang asked hopefully.

"Not a chance," Zuko replied bitterly.

"Oh," the airbender replied and hung his head. "Then I guess I'll just have to live with what I did."

"We all have things that we have to live with," the Fire Lord said and reached out for Aang again. "You're strong, much, much stronger than you give yourself credit for."

"Thank you, Zuko. It's nice being able to talk to you."

"Yeah, it is nice, isn't it?"

**Passions**

Mai winced ever so slightly as the blade she was practicing with slipped from her grasp and nicked the palm of her opposite hand. She licked at the little bubble of blood and grimaced at the metallic taste. But that was all the time she took between tosses. She didn't coddle herself or moan about the little wound. Rather she was almost proud of the cuts and fine scars that peppered her fingers and hands. They were physical evidence that she was actually alive and doing something, not just a walking ghost, a half person, a mirage.

Throwing her knives was the only solace she had and she flung herself into the task with as much abandon as she ever had anything. With Mai, that wasn't saying much. Her passion was cool and restrained, pushed down to the very pit of her stomach where it stayed like an obedient child.

Sometimes, it didn't listen, however, and reared itself upward, thrusting hard and forcing its way through her body until she spoke or thought or did something unheard of for her. Zuko made that passion arise and so did her blades. The Fire Nation prince awakened something warm and sticky, exciting and slightly confusing. Her blades, they awakened everything poised and determined, a steely precision and a dazzling grace.

When the two passions combined, she was unstoppable.

**Aberration**

Azula stared at the blood welling up from the three cuts on her brother's forehead. They weren't even cuts really, more like a scratches, made by her long, sharp, pointed nails in an unusual fit of rage. She was transfixed for a moment, staring at the lines of beautiful red marring the perfect white skin.

She felt a quick flash of shame for sinking so low. Azula was a firebender and not just an ordinary one either. She was a prodigy, a rarity, someone who could create lightning and let it soar from her fingertips, blue and crackling. She, princess of the Fire Nation, daughter of Fire Lord Ozai, didn't need to get close to her enemies. Her blue flames could kill from a distance, putting gaping, ragged holes through chests, or lighting up bodies like she would a torch on festival day. She could kill from a distance, never really getting her hands dirty.

Then why had she reached out for Zuko, marking him, resorting to the base savagery of scratching, like an angry little girl? It was almost intimate, the gesture, and it gave her pause. Whatever emotion it was that had compelled her hand forward, needed to be squelched. It needed to be stomped down as resoundingly as the dirt was beneath her feet.


	7. Chapter 7

**Caged**

**written for the prompt 'light'**

The underground prison was dank and dim. Water dripped from the ceiling and coated the stone floor with a film of moisture, cold and uncomfortable. No mattress was provided, no seat, just a bucket to do her business in. Smellerbee wished that she could sleep standing up instead of down on the cracked stones. At least she would be drier. No such luck. Every night, and it was almost impossible to tell when night was, she curled in on herself, making a tight little ball, trying to keep as much of her body off the floor as she could, and slept fitfully. Dreams of Jet and a desperate desire to see Longshot invaded her sleep, making her twitch and jerk, sigh and reach out.

Every morning, when she woke up to the derisive shouts of the guard, she hoped that something might be different. Every morning when she woke up, things were exactly the same. She rubbed her tired, bloodshot eyes, stretched her sore and cramped, far too thin body and ate the mess that passed for breakfast.

When the light came, beautiful turquoise crystal set inside a simple lamp, held up high by the man in a green _so _dark it may as well have been black, she felt almost hopeful for a moment. But when she looked into the Dai Li agent's eyes, so much like the stone he could manipulate, hope vanished.

* * *

A/N: I might use this drabble as a launching point for some further exploration of Ursa and Oza and their mysterious relationship.

**Inexplicable Desire **

**written for the prompt 'spontaneous'**

Ursa stood in the line of noblemen's daughters, back straight, hands folded neatly in front, and waited for the prince to enter the large and intimidating palace banquet hall. She was somewhere in the middle of the lineup, about eight young women on either side of her, and was growing impatient. The arrogance of the royal family irked her. It was perfectly acceptable to keep them waiting; they were just girls after all, vying for a chance to catch the younger prince's eye.

She ventured a glance at the one on her left side. The girl was pretty all right. Her face, like all their faces, was made up perfectly and her hair, like everyone's, was perfectly styled, part pulled up into a topknot and the rest hanging in thick black waves down her back. She wore a simpering smile that seemed a permanent part of her features.

When the prince finally arrived, a stir moved through the lineup, like a soft breeze moving through a stand of trees. Ursa could feel everyone stiffen; backs got even straighter and heads were held high. All the descriptions that she'd heard of Ozai did not do the reality justice. Agni, he was handsome, stunning even. His features were even and perfect and piercing gold eyes scanned each young woman cursorily, as if they weren't worth his time. Strength and power rolled off him, and the scent of it was intoxicating. Ursa felt a tingle of excitement surge through her. She felt a dampness begin between her legs. Ozai stopped in front of her. He looked Ursa up and down and sniffed the air. Perhaps he could smell her desire. The thought both horrified and thrilled the young woman.

For a prince, a man who had everything he could possibly want at his fingertips, Ozai did not look happy. Ursa found herself wanting to make him smile. She met his eyes then, her own gold ones full of mischief, and winked.


	8. Chapter 8

_**It happens to the Best of Us**_

"Do you know what I called you?" Sokka looked across at Mai and grinned, a big, dopey grin that _almost _made Mai smile in return.

"Oh, I can imagine." The brand new Fire Lord's girlfriend, fresh out of prison and properly meeting Zuko's new friends for the first time, rolled her eyes and tapped her long, freshly painted fingernails on the arm of her chair.

"I called you 'that gloomy girl who sighs a lot'. What do you think of that?" Sokka leaned forward, eager to hear her reply.

"I can see how you would get that impression," Mai answered reasonably. "But there's a bit more to me than that."

"So you_ can_ smile?" Sokka joked. "I've never seen you do it."

"It's been known to happen. But I need a good reason." Mai sensed that it was a game now, a back and forth between her and this quirky Water Tribe boy, who seemed determined to make her laugh or at least crack a smile.

"A good reason, huh?" Sokka stroked his chin, fingers caressing the few wiry hairs that grew there now. His blue eyes looked thoughtful as he pondered Mai.

"Do you know that I drank cactus juice once?" he finally asked.

"No, I wasn't aware of that. How did you like it?" Mai put a hand over her mouth to cover a yawn.

"Well, that's difficult to answer. See, I thought that cacti had water inside them, so I cut a piece off one and took a drink. We were stuck in the desert, you know, and it was really hot and we were all really thirsty. Everyone yelled at me for doing it, but I didn't care because I was too busy seeing crazy things like huge clouds that looked like mushrooms and …."

"Is there a point to this story?" Mai yawned again, this time not bothering to disguise it.

Sokka looked deflated for a moment and huffed indignantly, muttering about people who couldn't appreciate good stories if their lives depended on it. Mai smiled then, more of a smirk really, but the Water Tribe warrior caught it.

"Aha!" he exclaimed triumphantly. "So you do think I'm funny."

"No, I'm just glad that you finally shut up." She smiled again, a kinder one this time and Sokka returned it.

* * *

_**Two Loves**_

Sokka knew in his heart that even had Yue lived, there was no future for the two of them. She would have married Hahn like a good princess and served her nation well, producing offspring and staying in the city where the daughter of a ruler belonged. Though he wished with all his heart that she was alive, Sokka was secretly glad that she never had to marry that stupid, elitist jerk. Being the moon spirit _had _to be better than that.

He smiled wistfully as he looked up at the night sky, the moon hanging huge and yellow and full over the beach at Kyoshi Island. Suki slept beside him, her head against his shoulder, both of them sitting on a blanket spread out on the sand. It was warm where Suki's body touched his and when she made a little snoring sound in her sleep, Sokka felt an equally warm surge of affection for his girl. She was pretty special and he loved her.

He ran a hand through her auburn hair and brushed his lips against the top of her head. But the moon called to him again and his eyes were drawn away from his girlfriend and back up. He wondered if Yue was cold there in the sky and then called himself an idiot for wondering such a thing. She was a spirit, with special spirit powers. Surely she couldn't feel human things like cold.

Clouds began to roll in and they covered the moon and its cool, white light. Sokka turned back to Suki who was so warm and right there with him, breathing softly in and out, in and out.

"Hey," he whispered in her ear. He nibbled on the lobe then, trying to wake the warrior woman gently.

"I fell asleep?" She rubbed at her eyes and looked apologetically at her boyfriend. "I guess I've been working too hard."

"You have," Sokka agreed solemnly. "And it _must_ stop." He winked then and gave her a nudge.

Neither of them would lessen their workloads for some time yet. There was just too much to do.

"Did I miss anything?" Suki snuggled against Sokka and sighed contentedly.

"Nope, I was just looking at the moon."

"Oh." Suki knew the story of Yue and accepted that her boyfriend had a special spot for her in his heart, despite the brevity of their friendship. And she was a big enough person to accept it gracefully. "Was it a pretty one tonight?"

"Beautiful; but not as beautiful as you."

Suki laughed at the compliment and swatted him playfully. But she was glad to hear it nevertheless.

* * *

_**Strange Turn**_

He had been through so much; the murder of his parents when he was but eight years old, the destruction of his entire village, with him the only survivor, should have destroyed him. But it didn't, at least not in ways that were visible to the eye. In fact, little eight year old Jet, who took one last look at the still blazing remains of his village and the violent men who had perpetrated the deed for nothing other than their own personal thrills, did quite well for himself. He pushed those memories away; maybe he would look at them later, maybe he wouldn't.

He taught himself how to steal and how to fight and how to survive. Those hooked swords he took from a drunk and distracted bounty hunter became his best friends. He cared for them like he would a little brother or sister. They were always clean and polished and sharpened, ready for use. And after years of training himself, practicing intensely, the swords were essentially a part of him. He couldn't imagine life without them hanging from his belt, first banging off his ankles and as he grew older and taller, resting comfortably against his lean thigh, a reassuring weight.

Sure he did questionable things, but he had always been in control. Maybe it was wrong to flood the village near their forest hideout, but war was wrong too and Jet and his Freedom Fighters, those orphans he had picked along his travels, needed to fight back. For years, Jet had done just that, calmly and methodically.

But when he saw Li's sweet old uncle, Mushi was his name, firebend his tea in the Ba Sing Se train station, something inside Jet cracked. Control left him and was replaced with a hunger to make them pay, a hunger that almost made him physically ill. Why did they bother him so much? After days of watching them, peering in through their decrepit apartment's window, sneaking in and stealing their spark rocks, huddling outside the tea shop they both worked at, Jet finally figured it out. It wasn't the fact that they were firebenders, although that was awful enough in itself. It was the fact that they pretended to be Earth Kingdom refugees. They pretended to be part of the crawling masses of poor who made their way to the great walled city in droves every day. They took jobs away from good people. They didn't belong and everyone should know it. Jet would see to it that they did.

But that wasn't the way it happened and as he lay dying on the cold stone, his stomach and chest crushed by Long Feng's rock, his remaining friends beside him, Jet laughed. What else could he do?

* * *

A/N: So yeah, the first two really are random. Sokka must be on my brain today. I like to think that he and Mai would get along well and I think his love for Yue will always be there, not between Suki and him, but simply a part of him that she has to accept. The last one was written for the prompt 'crack'.


	9. Chapter 9

Inspired by the prompt 'Water' for the Avatar 500 on live journal

**Like the Seas**

For three years, give or take the occasional stop at port, Zuko was surrounded by it; water. It carried him around the world, over and over again, as he searched for the Avatar. It caressed his dilapidated, out of date ship on a good day and when the weather was wild, the water tossed the metal hull about like a toy.

When it rained, and some of the storms at sea were unlike Zuko had ever see before or would ever see again, it filled their water reservoirs, letting them travel longer without stopping. The tides and the currents and the strength of the waves all affected his progress and sometimes the young Fire Nation prince cursed the sea and its fickleness.

"The sea is like a woman," his Uncle Iroh often stated, one hand stroking his beard, the other shading his eyes as he looked out upon the deep blue of the waters. Zuko always cringed when the man talked about women in any capacity. It usually led to some embarrassing discussion about love, or worse, sex. "One minute she's calm and reasonable, the next a seething mass of tumultuous waves. You'll learn, Zuko, once you get to know women a little better."

"Fat chance of that," the sixteen year old retorted bitterly.

"Now, now, nephew; that negative attitude will never attract a young lady." The brother of the Fire Lord grinned and gave the young man an encouraging pat on the back.

Zuko snarled. "I live on a ship, on the ocean. Where exactly are the girls?" He stomped off to the railing and looked down into the water's depths. "I wonder if there are any girls down there. Look, I think I see one. Oh, wait; it was just a big **fish**." His voice was angry and harsh sounding with a hint of sadness underneath. "Damn water. I'm so sick of it. I just want to go home."

"You need patience, Zuko. You'll make it back to the Fire Nation eventually. I'm certain of it. And you'll have a real home and a girlfriend and all the things other young men your age have. I know that it's difficult right now, and it's been difficult for three years. But you're strong, so very strong."

"Yeah, strong," Zuko muttered. "What a joke that is; if I was strong I would have found the Avatar by now. If I was strong, I would have fought my father. If I was…"

Iroh narrowed his eyes and shouted, "Enough!" He grabbed hold of the young man's shoulders and shook him. "You listen to me! You _are_ strong, Zuko, much stronger than you know. You're like the ocean…"

"I thought_ women_ were like the ocean," Zuko interrupted, his anger dissipating a bit now.

Impatiently, Iroh waved his hand about. "Yes, yes, in one way they are, but you are relentless like the seas, pounding the shoreline day after day without fail. You wear down and erode all the obstacles before you. And you _will_, like the ocean does, claim your territory one day."

"I hope I don't die before that day comes." Zuko rolled his eyes and ran a hand across his almost completely bald head. He looked up at the sky then. Heavy, thick looking black clouds were beginning to form. A few seconds later, cold rain began to fall and it came down in torrents a few minutes after that.

Iroh ran below deck, heading for the warmth and relative comfort of his cabin along with a hot cup of tea. The prince remained on the deck, unmindful of his soaked clothing or the shivers that began to travel through his body. "Like the ocean," he repeated and stared once again into its mysterious depths. The water's surface was churning and the waves were wild and rough. "I couldn't just be like a volcano, could I?"

* * *

A/N: If anyone for any reason mistakes this drabble in any way for being pro Zutara or hinting at Zutara, you be very, very wrong. It is simply babbling that wanted to come out. I'm not even sure if it makes any sense. ;-)


	10. Chapter 10

**Concession**

The mournful sound of a tsungi horn greeted Mai and Zuko as they approached the front door of the Jasmine Dragon. Wrinkling her nose, Mai nudged Zuko and wondered whether Iroh might be "melancholic or something."

The young Fire Lord shrugged and pulled open the door, stepping aside so that Mai could enter first. "Agni, I hope not; Uncle gets, weird, when he's sad…and that's saying something."

It wasn't Iroh drawing long, almost achingly beautiful notes from the instrument; it was a young man, maybe five years older than Zuko, who sat with three other men, one with a drum, one with a pipa and one with a flute. They took no notice of the royal couple, or of anything really, but the sound of the horn.

Iroh came out from the kitchen and putting a cautionary finger to his lips, waved them over to a table. "Do you like my new band?" he whispered and then gave them each a crushing hug. "I thought the tea shop could use a little music."

"Wouldn't something, I don't know, _cheerful_, be more appropriate?" Mai asked.

"Oh, they play all kinds of music," the old man countered. "Happy, sad, whatever the crowd seems in the mood for."

"Ah." Mai sat, tugging on her husband's sleeve until he plopped himself down beside her.

"Brings back memories," Zuko mused. His eyes were closed as he listened, letting the music carry him back to earlier days, painful days, days spent on-board a rickety Fire Nation ship, his only purpose to find the Avatar.

"Good ones?" Iroh wondered, his rich voice full of hope.

"No," his nephew replied brusquely. "All I can think of is music night on my ship; you remember, don't you, Uncle?" Zuko shuddered as he recalled just how terrible those days were. But that wasn't the music's doing or his uncle's.

"Of course I remember. I loved music night. It was my idea after all. Those were difficult days, but I think the music made them a little bit brighter." Putting a still strong hand on Zuko's shoulder, Iroh squeezed. "Don't you agree?"

The Fire Lord looked to his lady. His gold eyes searched her gold eyes. Mai gave a barely perceptible nod and moved her hand beneath the table, letting it rest on Zuko's thigh. "Yeah, Uncle, you're right. Music night did make things a bit more bearable."

"I'm so glad," the tea maker sighed with relief. "Now, why don't you two make an old man happy and get up and dance?"

A protest formed on Zuko's lips, but Mai gave him a pinch.

"We'd be glad to dance, Iroh." The Fire Lady smiled at him and then at Zuko. Standing up, she put out her hand and waited for him to take it.

They held each other close, probably too close for what was considered proper, and stole furtive glances at Iroh. He sat at the table, sipping tea and beaming.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Written for the Avatar 500 contest on live journal. The prompt is 'never'.

* * *

_**Legacy**_

"Wow," Jet managed to say.

The word sounded like a weak gust of air and as soon as it passed his lips, he clamped his teeth shut tight and rode out the next wave of pain.

'Shouldn't move,' he chastised himself.

"Don't move, Jet," Smellerbee said tenderly, her words an echo of his thoughts.

"Figured that out," the head Freedom Fighter gasped.

He knew that his insides were a mess. He knew that soon he would be dead, no matter how many tears Smellerbee shed and no matter how nobly Longshot stood, bow pulled back, ready to kill anyone who dared disturb their last moments together.

"Bee," he whispered, and she took his hand. "_You_ don't cry."

With her free hand she rubbed her cheeks viciously, wiping away the moisture. "Yeah, well, Longshot doesn't _talk _either."

Jet laughed then and took a long, ragged breath. "It won't be much longer. You two, stay together. Look after each other. "

Smellerbee sought the archer's perpetually thoughtful brown eyes. He nodded.

"Yeah," the girl assured Jet. "We will."

"Good, then the Freedom Fighters will still exist…something of me. Do better than I did." He closed his eyes and tried to gather up the last bit of his strength. The effort it took to speak was enormous.

Blinking back more stubbornly persistent tears, Smellerbee made a vow of sorts to her leader. "We won't let you down, Jet, not for as long as we can breathe. I promise you that."

"You haven't _yet_, either of you." Opening his eyes one final time, Jet stared at his future.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Written for the prompt 'celebration'

_**Transfer**_

Everyone else had long since gone to sleep. The Southern Water Tribe settlement, more than just a collection of skin tents and a few ice huts now, a thriving city in fact, small compared to that of the North, but still growing, was silent.

Hakoda, appearing a bit wobbly, grinned happily and stared across at his son. They sat together on a pile of furs, drinks in hand, privately celebrating the transfer of power from one to the other.

"You all right, Dad?" Sokka asked. His blue eyes twinkled and he reached over and gave the fifty-five year old a solid punch in the shoulder. "I thought you could hold your liquor better than that."

"I'm just fine, son," Hakoda retorted, holding out his cup. "Pour me some more. This day, this moment, is one I never want to forget. You're the chief of our tribe, the leader that everyone will look to for guidance. And I _know_ that you'll do a great job."

The younger man squished his eyes shut tight. He did not want to cry, but the tears were there. He'd experienced more than his share of joyful occasions. There was his marriage to Suki and the birth of their three children. He'd watched as his sister, Katara, blossomed even further, married Aang and had her own family. And his friends, each of them happy in their own way, provided plenty of moments to treasure.

But this day, a special one for both father and son, and Tui, he_ loved_ his father, was different, and one day he would pass the title of chief onto his son…or daughter. Sokka liked to keep an open mind these days. Suki insisted.

* * *

A/N: written for the prompt 'yellow' and just a _bit _sappy.

_**Everyone has a Colour**_

Born and raised in the Southern Water Tribe, all Katara knew of colour, besides the yellow of the sun and the red of destruction, was blue, blue in its seemingly infinite varieties. The sky above, the ocean and its creatures that gave them life and the few flowers that dared to bloom in the spring; plants that gave them dye for their clothing, also blue. She knew absence of colour too; the white of the clouds and the snow and the ice, the black of the endless night.

When Aang came into her life, changing it irrevocably, he brought colour along with his naïve joy. His clothes were orange and yellow, bright and cheerful like he was. And when Katara and her brother decided to travel with him, out into the remainder of the wide world, everything, including shades of all colours imaginable opened up before her.

The green of the forests was vibrant and fresh, the purples of fruits delightful, the browns of the earth varied and the reds of anything that wasn't Fire Nation bold and enticing. The young waterbender was surrounded by colour now and she quickly grew to love it, wondering if she would ever be content with just blue again.

Innocently one day, after the war was over, Aang asked Katara what her favorite colour was. She did not hesitate in her response.

"Yellow," she declared firmly.

The young man before her stood resplendent in his yellow monk's robes.

"Not blue?" he wondered.

"No, because yellow is you."


	13. Chapter 13

**Drabbles written for the prompt 'earth'**

**Plans**

_So_ much land, _so_ much potential; Sozin stared at a map of the Earth Kingdom. His finger traced its outline while his mind made plans. He would conquer the huge mass with its diverse people, its overflowing cities, its mountains and desert and plains.

Conquer was not the word he would use when proposing the idea to Roku. No, that would not sit well with the Avatar. But perhaps if he used terms like 'sharing' and 'enriching', his oldest friend, his companion since childhood, would agree with his plans.

And really, it would be sharing, wouldn't it? The glory, the superiority, the genius of the Fire Nation would make the Earth Kingdom a better place, make its people wealthier in all ways. He was doing them a favor. Wasn't he?

Despite his delicate phrasing, Roku dismissed the plans. No, dismissed was too calm sounding a word. He condemned the plans as violent and brutish; a powerful nation at the peak of its success setting out to dominate a much larger, but less sophisticated one.

He was right, of course. Sozin hadn't given his friend enough credit. But, he went ahead with his plans anyway. The Earth Kingdom would be ground beneath the Fire Nation's heel. No one, not friend, not lover, could change his mind.

* * *

**Daughter of Earth**

Neither Lao nor Poppy was an earthbender. And when their daughter, Toph, was born, Toph, their only child, it was her lack of sight that dominated their thoughts, not whether or not she would one day be able to make the earth do her bidding.

The parents saw only what they wanted to see, a delicate, fragile girl child, pale and weak, someone to be protected and hidden away, all for her own good, naturally.

But Toph was far stronger than they could even imagine, stronger in body, in mind and in spirit. She found a way to pursue her bending beyond the 'teachings' that were given her. Toph was her own master, making up her own moves, setting her own boundaries. And no one was any the wiser. She was the opposite of the little girl Lao and Poppy believed that they parented. She was tough and cocky and sure of herself. She was solid and stable. She was earth.

When it came time to leave, however, she crumbled, like soil dry from lack of rain, unable to confront her mother and father, leaving in the night without their knowledge. That would come later, when she was even stronger. Everything in its time, she figured, slow and steady, like the ground beneath her bare feet.

* * *

**What they Fought For**

The Freedom Fighters didn't have much. They had their tree house and whatever they managed to pilfer from the Fire Nation soldiers stationed here and there around the huge forest they called home. They had each other, a large, strange family, brought together by tragedy and misfortune and coincidence. And they had their country, the Earth Kingdom, a nation in peril now, invaded, subdued, violated.

Jet wanted so desperately to change that. He wanted the Fire Nation, its killers, its rapists, its destroyers gone and gone forever. He wanted the forest floor, that sweet smelling earth covered with the leaves of years gone by, to be theirs again, and theirs alone.

* * *

**This Place is Not Home**

He hated the feel of it. The dirt stuck to his sweat shiny skin, coating him in layer after layer of filth. This part of the Earth Kingdom was a wasteland, nothing but rock and scrub and grime, with a sun that beat down relentlessly. No clouds, no rain, no hope. A prince deserved better than that.

Zuko dreamed of the palace baths, warm and inviting, the zenith of cleanliness. He imagined stripping down and sinking his weary, earth covered body into the water, dunking his head, then dunking it again, soaping himself down over and over and then stepping into the rinse water, hot to the touch, soothing for sore muscles and weary bones.

The ostrich horse lumbered on, stumbling occasionally, its own thirst getting the better of it. Zuko kept his eyes closed, preferring, for another moment at least, the world of his fantasies to the world that would greet him should he lift his eyelids.

He was _not_ a child of earth. He did _not_ belong in its kingdom. All Zuko wanted was to go home, where fire would embrace him.


	14. Chapter 14

**Seducer (written for the prompt 'charm')**

It came naturally; even _baby_ Jet had charm. It was a common enough occurrence for women to stop and admire a particularly adorable child, but men _too_ halted their business for Jet, stooping down low to peek at the already handsome face and that already roguish smile.

"He's quite a boy," they announced, their own faces split wide with grins.

Jet's mother smiled and nodded, admitting that _yes_, Jet was a fine son, and she was grateful to have him.

Girls a few years older than Jet doted on him, slipping him treats and rubbing his head and wishing he would grow up already. Other boys sniffed disdainfully, covering up their jealousy. Why didn't _they_ get the same attention that Jet did?

He was clever too, perhaps _too_ clever for the ordinary village folk. The boy never found out whether he would fit in as an adult. His people were destroyed and everything with them, leaving little Jet an orphan. It was his charm that saved him. People gave him food and clothing and a place to sleep for a night or two rather than chasing him away. He would tilt his head a certain way and look up at the adults, a sad expression on his face, brown eyes filling with tears. They couldn't resist.

Orphans he encountered, and there were far too many, were drawn to him; Jet knew what to do, how to do it or better yet, how to get_ others_ to do it. The older he became, the better able to seduce and manipulate he grew as well. Girls fell for Jet wherever he traveled, swooning and blushing at the very sight of that face and the sound of that voice, smooth and silky like their very best robes.

It wasn't deliberate, this seduction. But it certainly came in handy.

* * *

**Still Home (written for the prompt, 'return')**

A dry summer had taken its toll on the forest. Red leaves had dropped early and a deep, crunchy carpet of them covered both the forest floor and the winding path that made its way through the trees. It was silent but for birdsong and the scurry of small animals making their way to some destination only _they_ were privy to.

Smellerbee slipped her hand into Longshot's. The archer applied firm pressure to her fingers, solid and reassuring like he was. They stood side by side for another moment, simply drinking in the site of their old home, the place they had met, the place in which their bond was forged.

"I want to see the tree house," the boyish young woman declared.

Nodding, Longshot tugged on her hand and pulled her along. Each knew every bit of the woods; the hills, the clearings, the monstrous trees that were rooted solitary, high above the rest. When they made the final turn and then stood at the base of _their_ tree, both sucked in their breaths and shifted eyes skyward.

"Nothing's changed," Bee shouted with a grin. "Let's go up."

Longshot's smile was more subdued, but it was a smile nonetheless. In celebration, he decided to speak one of his rare words. "Let's."

Once up in the tree, the couple visited the various 'rooms', waves of nostalgia hitting them both full force. In terms of time, they had not been away from the forest and the tree house that long. But in terms of what both had experienced and endured, it seemed like eons. Their gang, the Freedom Fighters, had disbanded, perhaps forever, perhaps not. Jet, their leader, the one who had played father to them all, the one whose hurt was so great that he had temporarily lost sight of his humanity, was dead. Bee and Longshot each missed him terribly. The pain was fresh still and little things, a word or a phrase or the slope of someone's nose, could bring the memory of Jet rushing toward them like an angry mother moose lion.

Longshot threw a concerned glance Bee's way. She could read it as well as others could read characters in a book. He wanted to know if it was all too much for her, this homecoming of sorts. She shook her head 'no' and continued climbing, eventually settling down in her old 'room'. Smellerbee's eyes slipped shut but she still sensed Longshot join her and soon felt warm arms wrapping around her small body, protecting, supporting, loving.

"It's all right," she muttered. "I'm all right."

He kissed her hair and closed his own eyes. That was answer enough.


	15. Chapter 15

**Written for the prompt 'window'…..**

_**Left Behind**_

The sea was not visible from her window, but Mai liked to imagine that it was. Standing, thin arms wrapped about her body, the young girl, not quite thirteen, stared off into the distance, beyond the whites and reds of the city. Somewhere out on that vast expanse of water Mai could not see with her eyes, was Zuko.

He was unreachable, miles and miles away, searching unknown waters and unknown lands for the Avatar. And she wondered if the prince ever gave a thought to her. Perhaps Zuko was too busy or too embittered by his recent trials. Perhaps everything Fire Nation was now tainted, part of a past that pained him beyond _any_ pain that _any_ person should suffer. If that was the case, Mai was tainted too.

That thought almost broke her, but Mai continued to stare out her window nevertheless.

* * *

_**Misfit**_

Jet loathed the city. Ba Sing Se was a viper's den, a rat's nest, a horrible place, crowded and smelly and surrounded by a wall, each ring hemmed in by _more_ walls. He couldn't understand anyone actually _wanting_ to live there. Nevertheless, it was to be the place he called home. He was there with Smellerbee and Longshot and no one had dragged him along by the hair. Still, he didn't look forward to spending time in Ba Sing Se, greatest city in the world or not. Jet was there because he had screwed up and now he needed to make amends somehow. He had to prove to his best friends, the ones who had stood by him despite his zealousness, that he could be a different person, that he could let go of the hate and start anew. And when people of the Earth Kingdom wanted to start fresh, they travelled to Ba Sing Se.

Human life, in all its squalor and splendor, its horror and its grace, surrounded the Freedom Fighter as he prowled the city's streets. He developed the habit of glancing into windows, curious about what he might glimpse during those brief moments of time. He saw arguments and all out brawls. Lovers kissed. Families sat down to eat. Children played and children called other children names. Women gossiped and men did too, but _they_ labeled it something else. People cooked and people cleaned and people dreamed. This 'spying' was addictive and Jet found himself deliberately seeking out new streets and new homes with new windows to peek into. Despite all the horrors they perpetrated, perhaps _because_ of all their faults, people were fascinating creatures.

Life abounded in the forest too. Animals hunted and foraged and fought for territory. Birds sang and squabbled. Trees grew to unimaginable heights. Tiny, fragile flowers covered the forest floor and nuts and berries grew everywhere. Streams and ponds were rich with fish and frogs and turtles. Insects buzzed and hummed and clicked. In its own way, the forest was noisy too, but the sounds were gentler, more soothing. The smells were sweet and fresh. In the forest there was no chaos except the chaos brought by humanity. And there were no windows either, no walls to hide behind except groves of trees or a thick expanse of brambles.

Jet hoped with everything in him that one day he would return to the forest, his true home. But for now, looking through windows would have to suffice.

* * *

**Life Giving**

Cool air blew in through the window, caressing Aang's skin, a loving touch. Airbenders needed to keep their beds close to windows, preferably just below one. Though air was everywhere, they craved the breezes that nature created and the _feel_ of them, especially when going to sleep was like a lullaby. The Avatar smiled in his sleep and dreamed of riding the winds.

* * *

**Enough**

Lieutenant Jee was outside almost all day. The winds off the ocean constantly ruffled his hair and made bits of uniform flap about annoyingly. His lips were chapped and the skin of his face tough as leather. His ears heard wind even when he was below deck. The first thing he did upon entering his cabin was to shut the porthole window. At least while he slept, he could have peace.

* * *

**Over There**

Zuko spent an exorbitant amount of time staring out the library window, one of the highest points in the palace, across the expanse of well groomed grounds and across the street to Mai's house. He could make out just a bit of it, part of the red tile roof and part of one wall. But that was enough to somehow soothe him. She was there, inside, throwing her blades or painting her nails black or washing that hair of hers. Zuko smiled when he thought of the ebony locks and hot desire coursed through him.

Whatever it was she was doing, the prince knew that Mai thought of him too and not with disdain like everyone else. She _wanted_ to be with him. When he took the palanquin to her house or snuck out at night, feeling a bit like his Blue Spirit alter ego, she always waited on the front steps or just inside the door, that anticipatory upturn of her lips making his heart stop for a moment before resuming its regular beating. And their time together, just sitting or curled up on her bed, sometimes gazing out _her_ window, eased the pain and the guilt in his heart. For those few hours, Zuko was really and truly home.


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: Written for the prompt 'party'...a look at how the different AtLA characters 'enjoy' them.

**Party Favours**

Ty Lee looked forward to them like a cat anticipated a bowl of cream. Parties meant people and people meant potential friends and she could never have too many friends.

Zuko got nervous before every party that he was coerced into hosting and every party that he was forced to attend. Even if the party was in the young Fire Lord's honour, he felt somehow out of place, a misfit among normal people.

Parties for Sokka equaled food and drink and a chance to show the world that Suki was his. He ate and he drank and he kept a possessive hand around his lover's waist. He joked and he gossiped and he collapsed in a corner, drunk and sleepy.

Suki kept one eye on her boyfriend, eventually prying his fingers loose from her waist. She sought out her friends, those she saw rarely, and chatted easily. She felt comfortable around people, all people really, and parties made her shine.

Aang bounced about eagerly, practically floating on air, stopping to talk with everyone. He always had a kind word and a bright smile ready to give away. If there was dancing, the party got that much better. If there was anything he loved almost as much as airbending, it was dancing. And whirling about the floor with Katara, that was the best dancing ever.

Toph allowed all those vibrations to simply roll over her body. She separated them, grinning when she picked out one of her friends, raising her fist triumphantly when she analyzed someone new and different. Parties provided a great opportunity to hone her skills. And they were fun too, especially the drinking with Sokka part.

Katara kept an eye on everyone else, a maternal sort of eye. She giggled with Suki and exchanged Sokka tales, watched as Aang managed to make almost everyone feel good and almost forgot that she was a guest too, a guest who was allowed to have fun. When she recalled that pertinent fact, the waterbender let loose a little bit. But it was when she danced that Katara became just a girl again.

Mai found parties dull. She found _many_ things dull, but watching others preen and pretend was especially boring. She nodded when someone spoke to her, making the occasional brief remark, took a generous helping of her favorite foods, and sat with Zuko. Neither felt alone or out of place any longer. The party faded into the background and everyone else ceased to exist.


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: Written for the prompt 'rules'...so many ideas lately..make them stop..well, not really, but my brain seems to be in super creative and productive mode. Guess I shouldn't complain. By next week it may have atrophied.

**Rule Breaker**

Toph Bei Fong made a tunnel beneath the gate of her parents' estate. She strutted along, the vibrations of animals and insects and people above all making her body tingle deliciously. Blind she might be, but the twelve year old was more aware of her surroundings than most. The world was her plaything. She could bend and mold and manipulate it to suit her fancy. Toph loved the earth and it loved her back. She was grateful beyond words to have been born a bender. Bending made her whole, though her eyes could not see. Now, if only she could convince her parents of that. In truth, the girl had given up trying.

Her fancy rich girl clothes were back in her room, and Toph wore an outfit much more suitable for nighttime romps. It was laughably easy to escape the confines of the Bei Fong home. Her parents assumed she was safe in her room, tucked in her frilly bed, dreaming sweet little girl dreams. Toph refused to submit to their image of her. Let them believe she was helpless and in need of constant protection. Let them believe she would never be anything but dependent, first on them, and then on some man they married her off too.

The earthbender chuckled. "They have to acknowledge my existence to the rest of world first. Who knows when that's going to happen?"

She had, through the years, attempted to prove herself to her mother and father more than once. But they were the sightless ones, unable to see what was right in front of their eyes. Toph had never been what they had expected of a daughter. She was not what they had wanted. So the girl made her own secret life and pretended for them. Her parents were happy that way, or happier.

Isolation and loneliness were her greatest sorrows now. Toph didn't know what it was to have a friend, to laugh and play with another child. And if she wasn't willing to break even _more_ rules, Toph never would. There was no way the earthbender would allow that to happen. She was in charge of her own destiny and it would be a great one.

* * *

**Expectations**

"Don't upset the princess, whatever you do, Mai. Do you have any idea how fortunate you are? You get to visit the royal palace, spend time with the Fire Lord's daughter. Don't let your old _feelings_, for Prince Zuko get in the way of your future. He's gone now. Forget about him. Concentrate on_ her_."

'That almost sounds like you want me to start up a romance with Azula,' Mai wanted to reply. But her mother wouldn't appreciate the humor. So she said nothing and did nothing but stare down at the shiny tile floor. Mai could see the tips of her shoes peeking out from beneath her loose, flowing pants. They were good shoes, comfortable and simple, just what Mai liked. And why was she contemplating shoes of all things?

"Are you even listening, Mai?" The middle aged woman crossed her arms and stared sternly at her black haired daughter,

"If there's one thing I'm good at mother, it's listening." She added in a whisper. "Agni knows, you were never interested in what I had to _say_."

"Your attitude lately has been questionable. You're surlier than usual and sarcastic and you don't seem to care about anything but those knives you play with; those qualities are not becoming a noblewoman. And I'm sure that Princess Azula would appreciate a more willing visitor."

Once again, Mai squelched down what she really wanted to say. She hated the palace without Zuko and the last three years had been torture. She had just about reached her limit. She did not _play _with her knives. Her skill was considerable and Azula, despite all her faults, acknowledged at least _that_. Mai _did _care about some things, just not what her mother wished she cared about.

"Don't worry; I won't put Azula's nose out of joint."

_But I won't kiss her ass either. That's Ty Lee's job._

"Fine then; get ready to go." Mai sighed and turned and then mounted the stairs that led to the bedrooms."You know, Mai" her mother called, "there are rules in life, codes of behavior, expectations for people of certain breeding, and if people would only just follow them, everything would flow so much more smoothly. You need to learn that a bit more thoroughly, dear."

_Why does everyone have to fit into a stupid box? Why can't I say what I really feel? Why did you always shush me? Why are you so damn worried about what everyone else thinks? Why wasn't I good enough for you?_

"Yes, Mother."

_No, Mother, not really. One day things will be different for me. One day I won't be smothered, forgotten. One day someone will appreciate me. One day I will know love._

Mai still hoped that someone would be Zuko. How that would happen, she had no idea. _When_ it would happen, she could not possibly know. But despite her cynicism and her blasé attitude, despite the boredom she displayed to the rest of the world, when it came to Zuko and the possibility of a future with him, her faith was fierce. _That_, she kept to herself too.


	18. Chapter 18

**Cloistered**

The Fire Sages had another temple now on another island, something the filthy little earthbender had helped to build. Azula hated it, though logically, she realized it was a decent enough place. The ocean breezes were pleasant and cool and carried with them the scent of wildflowers that grew everywhere in great abundance.

Fire was everywhere too; the sages were all accomplished benders and trained daily in beautiful stone courtyards. Azula was permitted to watch, not participate. _That _privilege would come only after months of good behavior. _Their_ idea of good behavior and_ Zuko's_ idea, was not hers. But the princess, and Azula still thought of herself as such no matter how many indignities she suffered, had no choice but to go along with the rules. She was outnumbered and isolated and still recovering. Azula was extraordinarily bright, bright enough to realize that she had suffered a breakdown of sorts. Everything, pressure, abandonment, betrayal had come crashing down on her like so many huge boulders. Slowly now, she was casting them aside. And soon enough she would be healthy again.

The prodigy would bide her time and not cause any trouble. When her full strength was returned to her, Azula would strike.

_I won't stay here the rest of my life. I don't care what Brother says. I_ _don't care what those chanting, mumbling idiots say either. One day I will take them all down and then I will be free again._

She had no idea what would happen then or where she would go. But freedom provided opportunities. Here, imprisoned like some common street rat, Azula could do nothing.

_Maybe I'll travel to the Earth Kingdom, gather an army of some kind, then march on Capitol City. Once Zuko is dead, I will be the rightful heir once again. _

The princess didn't think of the money that would be required for such a venture. She didn't contemplate the possibility that people might be happy with Zuko as Fire Lord. Would there even be people willing to follow her? Could she share her identity with anyone and survive? But fantasies were not required to have statistics or probabilities. They were fantasies.

"Dreaming again, Princess Azula?" One of the Fire Sages approached cautiously. None of them felt entirely comfortable around her, even after three months.

Her instinct was to scowl, to throw back a brilliant retort. How dare he imply that she wasted her time dreaming? Princess Azula did not dream. She planned and calculated. She strategized and analyzed. That insult would not go unpunished.

The fifteen year old kept her rage in check and played the meek little girl instead. Giving the Sage a weak smile, she nodded. "I was thinking of better days with my family, days in the future, after I've been healed."

"There's nothing wrong with dreaming, Azula, nothing at all. Sometimes it's our dreams that give us the strength needed to persevere."

_Do your dreams include losing your ugly face?_

"Yes, High Sage. I'm certain that you're right."

"Good, good; now how are you feeling today, Princess Azula? The Fire Lord has written and asked for a full report. Aren't you fortunate to have such a caring brother?" The old man stared at Azula like she was a broken doll, one that would never be what it once was.

"Oh, yes, Zu-Zu," Azula couldn't resist using the nick name. Even though he couldn't hear, the feel of it on her tongue still pleased her, "is the best big brother ever. He's always looked out for me."

_Traitor, imbecile, loser, sentimental fool_

"Family is important, Azula, blood. We must treat our families with dignity and respect and show them care. Don't you agree?"

"Once I get out of here, I'll do just that."

_I'll show Zuko something, all right. I'll show him my blue fire, up close and personal._

"Let's not push things, young lady. You've got a long way to go and in the end it is the Fire Lord who will decide what happens to you."

The princess clenched her fists at her sides, careful to hide them beneath the fabric of her loose robes. "Of course; he is my_ lord_, after all." The words were poison in her mouth and it was all Azula could do not to heave.

"It's time to go back now. Come along." Several other sages joined the High Sage and together they accompanied the girl to her room.

_My prison._

She hated the feel of their hands on her. Her skin twitched and crawled as though she were covered in snakes or worms or some other creeping type creature. Azula hated the sound of the door closing and the lock sliding into place even _more_.

* * *

A/N: I tried to show how messed in the head Azula is by having her think, on the one hand, that dreaming is for losers, and on the other hand, have her actually dreaming about her escape...no real, solid plan, just fantasy. She's all over the place.


	19. Chapter 19

**Ruined** (written for the prompt 'blue')

Sometimes Zuko gazed up at the sky and was grateful for the unending expanse of blue. Everywhere he turned was red and gold and orange and yellow. Everywhere he turned was fire. The prince was a firebender and proud of it. Fire was part of his being and his heritage and his culture. Fire was power and conquest too and he wasn't certain quite _how_ to feel about that.

Sometimes it all got too much, these fiery colours, the bending lessons, the expectations to perform and perform well. Sometimes the sky, that sweet, bright canopy overhead, soothed him and reminded him that there was more to life than simply fire.

Should he feel guilty? Should he feel traitorous for craving blue rather than red? His father might think so and Azula too. But in the end, Zuko didn't care. So he lay on his back, hands behind his head, soft grass cradling his body, and stared. The slightest of smiles graced his handsome features and a sense of peace descended over the boy. He felt almost happy.

"What are you doing, dummy?" His sister's voice, still tinged with little girl honey, broke the spell.

"Nothing," the prince replied, his own voice surly and rough. "Go away!"

That was like inviting her to stay and too late Zuko realized his error.

"Nope; I think I'll stay right here and practice my bending."

The princess called up her fire and tossed it about easily from one hand to the next. Suddenly, her eyes grew wide and she called out in amazement.

"Look, Zu-Zu, look; my fire is _blue_."

Zuko glanced over at his sister and then averted his eyes. Her fire _was _blue. Unsure of what that meant exactly, he wavered between praise and saying nothing. Saying nothing won out. It was usually a better option with the princess. Besides, chances were, Azula being Azula, blue fire was somehow a wonderful thing.

The prince got up, brushed off his clothing and headed back inside. The sky no longer held any appeal.


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: More than anything, this was an exercise in defeating writer's block, which I am uncharacteristically suffering from. I hate it! Anyway, I didn't know where else to put this drabble, so it gets hidden away inside 'Menagerie' where no one will find it. *shrug* Oh well!**

**And He Dreamed of Mai**

Banished, disgraced, burned, alone in a dark room, Zuko needed something to soothe him. Pain, hot and searing, flared in his face, then radiated outward, affecting his entire body. It was enough to make him physically ill and every so often he needed to heave into a bucket that Iroh had left by his bed. Painkilling herbs and salve the physician had slathered on, only did so much. He was in agony. Death seemed like a far better option and the prince found himself wishing that his father had killed him outright.

His sleep was fitful, disturbed by intense dreams of the Agni Kai. In these dreams, everyone laughed; his sister, his father, Zhao, even his Uncle Iroh. They laughed as his face burned, the smell of charred flesh and hair filling the arena. They laughed as he fell unconscious to the polished marble of the battleground, everything intolerable for both his body and his mind.

When he awoke, he pressed his right palm into his right cheek, wiping away the tears that streamed out of his uninjured eye. He felt weak and useless, cast aside and more than anything, hopeless. He had a mission; to find the Avatar. _That_ he clung to with ferocity, though he knew the search would, in all likelihood, prove fruitless. He no longer had a home or a place or an identity. He was no one and that pain hurt more than the pain of his burn.

The prince wished, feeling like a little boy, that his mother sat by his bedside. She always knew what to do. She could also comfort him like no one else ever could. But she'd been gone for three years, gone from the palace and gone from his life. That was when everything really started to change. Those happier days, still shadowed by Azula and his father, left for good, never to return. From that moment on, he had felt almost completely alone.

Mai was his only solace then. Shy, quiet, reserved, but full of a passion that occasionally she allowed him to bear witness to, the girl from across the street, liked him, accepted him, willingly spent time with him. That seemed like a miracle in itself. But their affection for each other had grown into something even deeper; the fragile beginning of love. They both felt it, both knew it on some level and were both devastated by their separation.

Zuko experienced a sudden, intense longing for Mai. He closed his normal eye tight and conjured up memories; the smell of lilies on her hair, that beautiful hair, the light in her eyes when he smiled at her, or when she showed him one of her blades, the feel of delicate bones in her fingers when he grabbed hold of her hand, that smile, a slight upturning of her lips, that laugh, raspy and rare. For a moment, just a moment, Mai was in the cold, steel cabin with him. And for that brief moment, Zuko was soothed.

His sleep that night was better and he dreamed of Mai.


	21. Chapter 21

**Inspired by the prompt 'Fire'**

_**These Things Take Time**_

"Show me again," Katara demanded with a smile. It was a slow process, letting go of all the distrust and fear she had surrounding firebending and those who could wield fire. But Aang's and Zuko's encounter with the dragons was helping her to overcome. "Show me the Dragon Dance."

Aang smiled back and obliged happily. He was always pleased to do _anything_ for the waterbender. It was dark, and everyone else had gone to sleep. Katara and the Avatar had stayed up to talk for a bit. These days it was difficult for anyone to _ever _get time alone with someone else. Their numbers had swelled and privacy was at a premium. The need to be with just Aang for even a little while had hit the girl like a wall of earth Toph might create.

He had been so joyful and excited when he came back from his excursion with Zuko. Katara knew that the failed invasion attempt weighed heavily on Aang. Every time he looked at her or Sokka, Teo or Haru, she knew that he imagined their fathers locked away in some Fire Nation prison. Focusing on the enormous strides that Aang had taken with firebending was a great diversion.

The young Avatar began the dance. His movements were smooth and graceful. Katara already knew what a great dancer Aang was. He had proven that at the 'dance party' a few weeks earlier.

_Seems like ages ago._

His fire came strong and pure and without hesitation. It was beautiful, even to Katara's eyes.

_He must be so pleased. I'm pleased. He'll need that firebending in the days ahead._

"How did I do, Katara?" Always so eager to please, the boy bounced on his toes as he awaited her reply.

"You were amazing."

"Thanks." Aang's grin practically split his face in two. "You're_ always_ amazing."

She couldn't stop the blush that painted her cheeks, but she wasn't quite sure of its origin. Was it the compliment or the intense feelings she sensed behind Aang's words? Either way, Katara was grateful for the darkness.

"We should get some sleep now, Aang. You've had a long day." Always the mother, Katara would never stop looking out for everybody's well being.

"Okay," he agreed readily enough.

As they walked through the darkness back to the campfire, one hand reached for another hand and did not let go.

~~~~0000~~~~

_**Discovery**_

The former Fire Lord watched as his son, the_ current_ Fire Lord, easy as breathing, created a flame in his palm and heated the tea. He recalled that feeling, the power over the element of fire, the act of creating, and grief hit him once more.

The rage was gone now; rage at the Avatar, just a boy, but strong enough to reduce him to nothing, rage at his son for helping the enemy and rage at his daughter for being such a disappointment. Pain lasted longer, it would seem. And though it was a quieter sort of suffering, its strength sometimes reduced Ozai to a shaking, huddling mass in the corner of his cell.

Zuko felt the intensity of his father's gaze. He stared up at the ragged looking man he no longer considered 'father' and considered rubbing it in a bit. He settled for a smirk.

"Here's your tea," the young man stated and passed the tiny red cup through the bars.

"Thank you." The reply was rote, a relic from childhood instruction, not genuine. He would never thank his son for anything. Ozai reached for the cup, hoping to brush his fingers against Zuko's, hoping to somehow absorb even a little bit of that fire.

He imagined briefly, and despite what some people thought, Ozai had a good imagination, taking Zuko's bending from him, stealing the heat and the power. Would that it was possible, he would not hesitate. Fire belonged better inside _him_ than inside his incompetent son.

"Why are you here? You didn't bring me tea simply to be social."

"You're right," Zuko replied reluctantly. "I have need of your expertise."

Ozai sat up straighter, threw his shoulders back and stared mockingly at the Fire Lord. "I'm not surprised." In fact he was, but he would never tell Zuko that. "You know nothing about running a country, and all your soft notions of peace and love and living in harmony will not help you now."

Suddenly Zuko looked smaller and it was as if _he_ were the one behind bars now. Ozai may have lost his bending, but he still had power after all. And wielding it could prove to be very satisfying.


	22. Chapter 22

**Spoilers for Legend of Korra**

**New Beginnings**

She could afford to patronize any establishment in Republic City, but chose a dimly lit, grimy bar away from the city's shiny down town. Asami Sato pulled open the door, patted down windblown brown locks and peered into the large room. Lin Bei Fong sat alone in a corner, nursing some drink or other. One finger traced the scars on her right cheek. She glanced up when Asami approached.

"You're late," she stated brusquely.

"Traffic," the younger woman replied with a shrug. "Even my Satomobile can't defeat that."

"Humph, well, sit down." Lin indicated the chair across from her before calling over the corpulent barkeeper. "What will you have, girl?"

"Just give me what she's having," Asami told the man. She flashed a brilliant smile and the barkeeper lit up, suddenly willing to do anything for the young lady.

"I'll be right back," he chirped. "And I'll bring you a bowl of nuts too. Would you like that?"

Asami answered sweetly. "Sure, that would be great."

"You never offered _me _nuts," Lin complained. She shot the man a surly glare, narrow green eyes getting even narrower, and he rushed away as quickly as his thick legs would carry him.

Chuckling, the beautiful heiress shrugged out of her coat and placed her hands in her lap. "It seems strange to smile. It seems strange to feel happy. I've lost so much these past few weeks."

"Hey, this little get together was your idea, Asami. If you're not up to it…."

Lin Bei Fong had a healthy respect for the daughter of Hiroshi Sato. The founder of Future Industries had betrayed Asami's trust, lied to her for years, used his technology to help the perpetrators of violent, terrorist acts, and in the end, he had been willing to murder her too. Any person would be bowed under the weight of all that. But to her infinite credit, Asami had never whined, never given up and never stopped fighting. She faced her father head on and remained strong. That kind of behavior, those actions took guts. And if there was one thing Lin Bei Fong respected, it was _that._

Her own mother, Toph, never coddled her or pampered her or kept her safe inside some mansion. She was tough and she was hard and she demanded a lot. But Toph had never lied to Lin either, preferring instead a sometimes brutal honesty. Lin had always known where she stood with her mother. And for that she was very grateful.

"I'm fine, really." Asami took her drink from the barkeeper and he placed the snacks in front of her, deliberately out of Lin's reach. The younger woman giggled. "He likes you."

Snarling, Lin shifted so that she had access to the bowl as well. "So, you asked me here for something; get on with it."

"Like I was saying, I've lost so much; my father and my boyfriend, though he never really belonged to me and I'm better off. I've lost my childhood too, all those sweet memories, because all through it, he lied. My father did _nothing_ but lie to me. But I _have _so much as well. I have a company to run. And I have all this amazing technology at my disposal. Lin, I don't want to spend all my time behind a desk or attending meetings. I want to help this city rid itself of crime. You know that I'm capable." Lin nodded and ate another handful of nuts. "All I ask is that you cut me a little slack if I, you know, impede someone."

"You mean make a citizen's arrest, that sort of thing?" Lin smiled slyly at the younger woman. She knew damn well that Asami meant to do a lot more than that.

"Something like that. You're Chief of Police again. We can work together. I can stop criminals, and we both know that the city is crazy right now, and leave them for you to pick up. It's a win-win situation."

"You'll be on your own. Don't think for a minute that I'll rush out to protect you or save you." She stared unflinchingly into Asami's green eyes. "But I know that you can take care of yourself."

"Yeah, I really can. And that alone is something to celebrate." She raised her glass and nodded to Lin before taking a healthy swig.

Lin responded in kind and the two spent the remainder of the evening in easy silence.

**A/N: All the credit for the idea of Asami becoming a crime fighting, tech wielding, Bat(wo)man sort of figure, going to Lin for 'permission' etc. goes to Overlord Ixmythot. If you like the idea, keep your eyes open for HIS story (no pressure, Ix). **


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: Meh, a tentative alert for sappiness.**

**Icon**

The Jasmine Dragon was more than just a tea shop now. It had, over the years, become an icon in Ba Sing Se and even throughout the world. Iroh had resisted expansion at first, not wanting to let go of that hands on approach he so enjoyed. After all, he could only run one tea shop in one city efficiently and with the love and care he gave to every endeavor.

But people, Zuko and his wife, Mai, among them, had eventually convinced the old man to give it a try.

"_Why shouldn't people all over the world have the chance to enjoy your amazing tea and those moon cakes we love so much?" _

"_But who will run those other tea shops, nephew? What if the quality deteriorates? I couldn't bear that."_

"_You'll find people you trust. You have Ping here, right? You've left him alone for two weeks at a time. Come on, Uncle, maybe it's time to relinquish some of the control."_

"_Are you trying to tell me that I'm old?"_

"_I think you have a lot of years left. But there's nothing wrong with thinking about the future."_

"_And when did you become so wise? Seems are roles are reversed today, nephew."_

~~~~0000~~~~

The famed tea maker, crisp white apron on, supervised his apprentice along with the rest of the kitchen staff in the second Jasmine Dragon. This new tea shop was located in the Fire Nation's capitol, within walking distance of the palace. He shook his head and wondered if the young man would ever really understand the process of tea making.

Mai poked her head into the kitchen area and gave Iroh a smile. "Maybe all the hovering is making the guy nervous," she suggested with the hint of a smirk. "_This _cup of tea is very good." She took another sip from the cup she held and nodded.

"_Good_ is not good enough." When it came to tea, Iroh was almost a tyrant.

"I did say _very_ good," Mai quipped.

Zuko approached his wife from behind, wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her neck. "I wouldn't tease him now," he whispered.

"Yeah, he gets pretty intense." She sighed happily as the Fire Lord's lips moved up and down the column of her throat.

"Intense," Zuko echoed, no longer thinking about tea or his Uncle Iroh.

"You two have a bedroom for that, don't you?" Iroh's amber eyes twinkled with humour and affection and something much deeper, a love so strong that its power humbled him.

"I think there is one or two in the palace," Mai retorted with equal good humour.

"Can we help, Uncle? What about the kids? They can't wait until the shop opens."

"Well, I'd like to give this place more of a Fire Nation flare, a Capitol City flare. Do you have any suggestions?"

Mai and Zuko exchanged a look, both of them shrugging.

"What about some fire cakes?" Zuko offered.

"Or a new tea, only served here, something with Fire Nation spices?" Mai slipped her hand into Zuko's and gave it a squeeze.

"Yes, yes, those are good ideas. But I was thinking more about the décor."

"Um," Mai mused. "Are you hinting at something?" Then it hit her. "Oh, you're looking for Fire Lord and Fire Lady stuff, am I right?"

"I was sort of hoping," the tea maker responded with a sheepish smile. "Surely you have some older robes, or hair pieces or weapons that we could display here. The shop would be a kind of museum too. What do you think?"

"We'll pick out some items and have them sent over tomorrow, Uncle."

Pleased, Iroh pulled both his nephew and Mai into an embrace. "Thanks for making an old man happy."

~~~~0000~~~~

One month later, the second Jasmine Dragon opened amidst great fanfare. Crowds filed in and out all day to sample the free tea and free baked goods. And the people examined the memorabilia too, taking great delight in old twin dao, a set of shuriken, armor Zuko had worn as a teenager, one of Mai's favorite outfits from years ago, and portraits of a young Fire Lord and a young Fire Lady and their growing family.

From the kitchen, Mai and Zuko watched Iroh mingle with the people. He chatted happily and proudly pointed out his family's things, telling stories about each item. Men and women, old and young were charmed alike and it was already obvious that this _new_ Jasmine Dragon would be a roaring success.

Another week later, Iroh prepared to travel back to the Earth Kingdom.

"We'll miss you," Zuko stated simply. He blinked back tears.

The past month and a half was the longest period of time they had spent together for years. Zuko was just getting used to having Iroh around again.

"You know that I'll miss you as well." The old man didn't bother hiding his tears, instead allowing them to roll down full cheeks. "Look in on the place, would you? I'm still not certain about _him_." He pointed to the novice tea maker.

"He's doing fine," Mai sighed. "Don't worry."

"And come visit me in Ba Sing Se soon, all right. I don't want to miss too much time with the little ones."

"We will, Uncle. I promise."

"All right then. I had best get going."

The royal couple watched as Iroh stepped into the carriage that would take him to the harbor. There a ship awaited him. He gave them a wave and his expression was wistful.

"Are you okay?" Mai asked once the carriage was out of sight.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Let's go home."

There was already a line up outside the Jasmine Dragon II. Both Mai and Zuko smiled.

~~~~0000~~~~

A/N: I'm thieving a lot lately. The idea of the Jasmine Dragon becoming a successful chain comes from Ix.

Methinks I will end 'Menagerie' here. Besides Private Fire, pretty well no one reviews. I can only conclude a lack of interest or enjoyment.

Alabaster


	24. Chapter 24

**Old Member, New Member (written for the prompt 'celebrate')**

Fat carried a tray laden with all of Sokka's favorites, and those were _considerable_, into the sun filled room where Piandao and the Water Tribesman languished on brilliantly red cushions. They were both already drunk.

Tsk tsking like a disappointed mother, the butler placed the tray on the low table and picked up two empty bottles of strong Fire Nation whiskey. "Didn't take you long," he chided. "Shall I bring some more?"

"Why you lookin' at me when you say that?" Sokka belched and then giggled, much like a child would. Fat rolled his eyes but said nothing. "_He _drank just as much as I did." The young man pointed an accusing finger at Piandao and then hurriedly sat up. He rested his forehead on the table and began to tap out an annoying tune with his knuckles.

"Yes, bring more, Fat," Piandao ordered. The sword master's tone was as dignified as he could make it. "Don't bring more _fat_…." He laughed then, a deep, melodic sound and reached over, poking the butler in the belly. "Bring more _whiskey_."

"There's food on the table, the entirety of your young friend's most beloved dishes; meat, meat and more meat." Shaking his head, Fat shuffled toward the doorway.

"**No food**," Sokkka moaned. He threw himself back onto the cushions, the smells of broiled and roasted and stewed meats, spices and sauces, flooding his nostrils and making him nauseous.

"Fat went to the trouble of cooking it all. You had better eat it." The swords master fumbled with his elegant black robes and fished out a well worn pai sho tile. "Remember, you're one of us now." He slammed the white lotus tile down on the table. "And we're s'posed to be cele…." He stopped for a moment, unable suddenly to get the word out. "We're s'posed to be having fun."

"I'll be sick," Sokka warned. "And then Fat'll have to clean it up. Then he'll be mad. You wanna make Fat mad?" He giggled again.

Piandao pondered the question seriously. A mad Fat was a _formidable_ Fat and Sokka deserved a suitable warning. He did the best he could. "Mmm, no."

"Okay then, _now _you're makin' sense." Sokka closed his big blue eyes and within minutes was snoring loudly enough to rattle the windows and drooling enough to soak the collar of his tunic.

"Lightweight," Piandao snorted disdainfully.

When Fat returned a few minutes later, his master had joined Sokka in slumber.

"Never could hold his liquor." Sighing, the butler began to clean up.

~~~~0000~~~~

**Cross-Border (written for the prompt 'mercy')**

They found him in a field. He must have crawled for some way before he collapsed. Song and her mother could tell from the way the long grass had been crushed. His torn uniform was red, but the dried blood and the fresher stuff too, showed up well enough.

He was young, maybe twenty, and barely coherent. But the fear in his eyes, the pain, and the dismay at being discovered by two Earth Kingdom women, were all evident.

"What should we do, Mother?"

Song's instincts were to heal the sick and the wounded. And if healing was not possible, to bring comfort and ease suffering until the inevitable occurred. She had seen terrible things and she had seen her share of death and she could deal with each. But Song was not cold and she felt the agony of her patients as if it were her own.

The older woman's answer was written on her face, etched deeply into each line. Their village, raided more than once, would not tolerate aiding the enemy in any capacity.

"We can't just leave him here, like some animal. We could take off his uniform. No one would know that he's Fire Nation."

Song's mother sighed and touched a hand to the girl's arm. She pulled out a pouch then, filled with vials, each containing a different mixture.

"I'll hold him down while you rub some along his gums."

Song took the jar her mother handed her. She stared at the label and then into the soldier's eyes. He guessed what was happening and began a desperate attempt at escape. But all he could do was flop about like some broken doll. Feeble sparks emerged from his fingertips.

Grabbing hold of his shoulders, Song's mother kept him still. It didn't take much. The man's life ebbed away with every slow beat of his heart. Song pried his mouth open and rubbed the paste onto the man's gums. She half wondered if he would bite, but he lacked the energy and the inclination.

"It will be over soon," she whispered kindly. "I wish we could have done more."

As he slipped away, Song expected to see gratitude in his eyes, or peace at least. But all she saw was hate.

~~~~0000~~~~

A/N: At Private Fire's suggestion, I'm putting these things up here, despite my saying I was done with Menagerie….don't mind me...I'll be fine.

Quite a contrast in moods with these two drabbles…I never know what I'll come up with for any given prompt. I try hard to write something that hasn't been overdone. Not sure how well I succeed.

Thanks for reading.

Alabaster


	25. Chapter 25

**Written for the prompt 'silence'. I had 2 ideas, so wrote them both. Now I have to decide which one to enter into the Avatar 500 contest. I favour the second one. What do you, my esteemed readers, think? And two 'chapters' in one day...that won't happen again. The next chapter of 'Thistle and Weeds' is begging to be finished. **

**Toph's World**

Toph's world was a noisy one. People mentioned quiet and silence and she understood the concept just fine, but had never really experienced it.

"Isn't it peaceful here; so still?" Katara observed as they stood on the Fire Nation beach, the waves gently tugging at their bare toes.

"You could say that," she replied, not wanting to get into a discussion about her heightened senses. The master earthbender was aware of everything alive both above and beneath the sand. The scurry of crabs, the gentle movement of a starfish stranded on the beach, the death throes of a fish nabbed from the waters by a gull and then dropped unceremoniously. Quiet, or what others deemed quiet, was more chaotic for her.

Katara didn't hear the words anyway. The water absorbed all of her attention. Toph understood that too. It was her friend's element, after all. And every bender had a special relationship with whatever element they manipulated. Aang, of course, he loved them all, though air held a precious place in his heart.

After leaving the beach, they joined the others at a crowded restaurant. People talked loudly, some gesturing wildly with their hands. Dishes clattered. Beverages were poured. The door opened and shut. Meat sizzled and water boiled in the kitchen. Knives sliced through vegetables and bone, hitting cutting boards with a steady bang. The cook shouted at his subordinates. Waiters and waitresses listened patiently to whining customers.

Toph had figured something out years earlier. When there was a jumble of noises and vibrations all around her, like in Ba Sing Se for instance, if she let her concentration go, they all become one, almost like a gentle hum. That was her quiet.

"Geez, it's noisy in here," Sokka complained. "Do you want to go somewhere else?"

"Not me," Toph declared. "I'm basking in the silence."

The Water Tribesman stared at her, a bemused expression on his face. "You're a strange one," he finally stated.

The girl replied proudly. "That's me."

~~~~0000~~~~

**Differentiation**

From an early age, Zuko realized that silences could mean many things. His father's were frightening and full of unspoken disappointment and rage. The young prince preferred it when Ozai shouted at him or grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him hard. At least in those moments, the young prince knew where he stood.

Azula's were disconcerting. When her acerbic tongue was still, and she stared at her brother with those bright amber eyes of hers, Zuko could almost see the web of ideas being spun inside her head. Her silences were all about plotting and planning ways to make life difficult for _someone_, most often Zuko.

His mother's moments of quiet meant something altogether different. Sometimes she was lost in her own thoughts, but more often than not, Ursa simply enjoyed her son's company, enjoyed listening to him enthuse about something, enjoyed watching him smile or laugh or play. Her silences wrapped themselves around Zuko, sweet and loving and warm.

Uncle Iroh was rarely quiet. A boisterous man, he enjoyed life to its fullest and talking was definitely part of that enjoyment. But occasionally he would grow contemplative. If Zuko let him down in some way, and that occurred a lot during his banishment, Iroh closed himself off briefly, giving the prince plenty of time to think about his words or actions. Though the silences were not angry, Zuko felt their sting and guilt set in without fail. He would realize the nature of his misstep and in his own stubborn way apologize. Iroh knew how to get to the boy.

The girl he loved, Mai, was frequently silent. She chose her words carefully, and spoke them with dull indifference or wicked sarcasm. But most of the time, Mai keenly observed the people around her. People didn't notice her much and she was all right with that. She learned to read them well, their faces and their bodies, what they said and _how_ they said it, what they left out and what they included. She probably knew more about these people than they knew about themselves.

Occasionally she turned that sharp awareness onto Zuko. Mai understood the prince quite well. But _his_ emotions were almost painfully obvious. The reasons behind them, though, not everyone got. Mai did. Her quiet didn't bother Zuko. He loved it, in fact. She relied more on touch than on words with Zuko, and each press of her lips to his, each caress, each time she reached for his hand, said more than any words ever could. Mai's silences were rich and full and Zuko basked in them like he would a cool sea on a hot summer day.


	26. Chapter 26

**Written for the prompt 'escape':**

**The Joy of Remembrance**

Appa was frantic. But more than anything, the air bison was tired. Manacles on each of his six legs kept him in place, like an insect pinned to a mounting board. He could blow air all he wanted, but he couldn't move from his position. Huffing once more, a brief burst of air, he allowed brown eyes to close.

The bad men had put him down here, away from the sky and away from sunlight, and away from Aang. Below ground, in the dank cell, water continually dripping, the air bison felt only half alive. The stone floor was cold despite thick pads on the bottom of his feet. He recalled the beautiful ice of the Polar Regions, its slippery smoothness. _It _was cold too. But Aang had been with him, negating any discomfort or strangeness he had felt.

The boy's laugh filled his memory now, the sound of a fresh breeze caressing the sweet, new leaves of spring. It lulled him to sleep and for a few minutes, Appa was at peace.

~~~~0000~~~~

**A Girl and Her Knives**

Sometimes Mai wondered how objects so deadly could provide her so much comfort. Was it that her knives, the sleek, cool smoothness of them, felt perfect in her hand, almost a part of it? They were every bit as vital to her as the heart pumping blood or the lungs taking in air. Life without them would be like life without Zuko; unthinkable now.

Mai was fastidious and kept each weapon clean and sharp. Light bounced off their shiny surfaces and she could see her reflection in each blade, clear as if in a mirror. The weight of them on her body, slight enough, but noticeable when absent, kept her in balance. She felt right with them on. Even while she slept, Mai kept two blades on her person, one on her thigh and one on her upper arm. One could never be too careful or too safe. And they could add an element of surprise and intensity to lovemaking as well.

The sound of steel hitting her targets during training, or the wood of a tree, that wonderful, solid thump, the sight of the projectiles soaring through the air, graceful as birds in flight, calmed her; they provided a reprieve from both the boredom and the strain of daily life.

The young woman knew well enough that she would still be 'Mai' without them, but the thought of giving them up horrified her. For years now, those sharp, shiny things had given her an escape. She owed them much more than that.


	27. Chapter 27

**Jee's Bad Day (written for the prompt, 'fanatic')**

Prince Zuko behaved like a tyrant. No one disputed that, at least not while he was out of earshot. The men aboard his 'classic' ship, as Iroh called the old beast, always quick to appease the spoiled brat, all wanted to smack him a good one.

But while Zuko was driven and relentless in his quest to find the Avatar, no matter the consequences to his men, Lieutenant Jee had his own issues.

"There's a spot on the collar. Can't you see it? Did your mother not teach you to do laundry properly?" He held the offending garment out to the ship's hand, careful to keep it well away from his own body. "Well?" he shouted, his face redder than a strawberry and looking as though it was fit to burst, all the juices running out everywhere.

"I, no, I, but you're only wearing it _here_ on the ship to nowhere, sir. What does it matter?" The young man, who was about six years older than Zuko, cringed and dutifully awaited his scolding. He did his best, really he did. But Jee's standards were exacting. Sometimes he had to protest, Of course, as soon as he did, regret filled him.

"I don't care if we drown in these clothes. I. WANT. THEM. TO. BE. CLEAN. Do you understand?" With every word, Jee gave the tunic a shake. It was clear he would rather be shaking the ship's hand. "Now, take this abomination and wash it again. You had better do it right, or I'll make you duel the prince."

"But, but, I'm not a firebender." The young man cowered against the ship's rail and for a moment considered diving into the water.

"Precisely."

Jee marched across the deck, his hands behind his back, whistling a jaunty tune. The ship's hand scurried below to the laundry.

~~~~0000~~~~

"Really, Lieutenant Jee, isn't the lad terrified enough just being around my nephew occasionally. He doesn't need _two_ people after him." General Iroh shook his head back and forth rhythmically. "It_ is_ just the laundry after all." He realized his error as soon as the words moved beyond his lips and hung in the air like a rank cloud.

"Just the laundry! Do you hear what you're saying, General? If we can't count on clean clothes, what's the point of anything? When I first joined the military….."

"Excuse me, Jee, I think I hear Zuko calling. Yes," Iroh cupped a hand over his ear. "There it is again. I really must be going now."

"But I'm not finished. You haven't heard my story about….that sneaky old man."

Jee stared about him angrily. Would no one listen to his tales of laundry woe?

~~~~0000~~~~

A/N: Yes, it is supposed to be mildly humorous. When I thought 'fanatic' all I could come up with was Jet or the FN in general. I've done that

in various forms many times. So I went for something a bit different. I may have failed, but I tried, dammit.


	28. Chapter 28

** Written for the Prompt 'Devour' and inspired by a free verse poem called 'pyrophobia' written by Ivory Muse.**

_ -Devour Her-_

Her desire for you,** hot** and **wet**, makes you _proud_.

Marriage bed PLUMP with _soft _pillows entices her: U.R.S.A.

Avatar blood red and warm in her veins makes you sick AND makes you want her that little bit more.

U.R.S.A.

Not THE Fire Lord yet, but you will be. {And she will help.}

You need to devour her, BODY first.

Daddy said so!

"Claim her as yours. Make her knees tremble with want. **Take her**."

You knelt before

f

a

t

h

e

r

And you swore obedience. Did you LIE? Does it matter?

** NO! **

** ~~~~0000~~~~**

U.R.S.A. _matters; _her s pple, writhing limbs, her heat, heat that rivals YOURS, her moans, low, throaty.

u

The woman gives and the man [you] **takes. **[You] Ozai, [you] are a PRINCE and the world

_**PLUS**_

this woman, are _yours _for the taking. U.R.S.A. melts and ~~~~shudders~~~~ and your claim is **TRUE**.

1st you eat her body, and then you D.E.V.O.U.R. her soul.

~~~~0000~~~~

A/N: Setting things up here is a pain. There is supposed to be '+' sign above the floating 'u' and that 'u' should be right under the 's' in supple, but I'll be damned if I can make it do that on this site.

It was fun to try this sort of poem. Go read Ivory Muse's. It's really well done.

Also thanks to Private Fire for reading this and making some great suggestions.


End file.
